The Great Makeover Adventure
by Windcall
Summary: AU: Crazy, over the top Ugly Betty comedyadventurereality show fanfic.  Betty is kidnapped by a crazy designer intent on using her as a rather peculiar kind of advertisement. Chaos grips Mode and the City as everyone tries to use the situation.
1. Rebel with a cause

**The Great Makeover Adventure**** (aka: Talk about One Crazy Fairy Godmother)**

A/N: Hey guys! I'm back with this crazy, over the top adventure/comedy/reality show story. Its something very different from what I usually do…so bear with me, I'm trying! I'm learning a lot about writing and what I feel I can do and pushing the envelope on what I'm not sure I can. It should get better (at least I hope so) as it develops. I'm making sure to be ahead of you (I'm starting on chapter six as I write this) so that there's not too much wait between chapters. I can't promise anything unfortunately, you all know how life has a way to wreck the best laid plans.

Warning: As usual, I'm warning you that as a French-Canadian, English is not my first language. Even with the tremendous help of my superb beta Jen, there is bound to be some mistakes here and there. I'm truly sorry for that and hope it does not impede the reading experience too much. Please be patient with me, I've just bought an English grammar book, and I swear I'm making progress!!! Lol.

Disclaimer: Ugly Betty, its characters and the overall plot belongs to ABC. No money is made with this piece. No infringement is intended. No yawning is intended either. What are fully intended are fun, laughter and the occasional shriek!

_**Chapter 1:**_ Rebel with a cause

_"When you think of the long and gloomy history of man, you will find more hideous crimes have been committed in the name of obedience than have ever been committed in the name of rebellion. __" _C.P. Snow _(1905 - 1980)_

Betty Suarez walked to her boss' desk with her usual energy, "There you go, Daniel, it's the last report from accounting." She handed him the file over the desk with a big smile.

Betty was having a fine day; everything was, for a change, going right on schedule. They wrapped the June issue of Mode with little trepidation just last Friday, and things were going swiftly for the preparation of the next one. Everyone was feeling great because the vacations were just around the corner, and the weather was steadily warm and sunny. There was not a frown to be seen on anyone's face.

"Thanks Betty." Daniel Meade, editor in chief of Mode magazine and Betty's boss took the file, dropped it on his desk and leaned back in his chair with the inborn ease of a rake.

He gave her a small smile, "So, ready for some vacation time?" Handsome, rich and spoiled, he was everything Betty usually detested in a person, but somehow through necessity and adversity they had become close friends in the last year they had worked together.

"Yeah, you bet! I have about a millions thing to do at home. I can't wait!" Her eyes were alight with the prospect of staying home for her two weeks vacation.

Daniel shook his head with resignation, he knew that for her, laying about on a beach was the last thing she would think of for a vacation. "Betty, you've had a rough year...can't you just take it easy for once? You know, stay in bed late, read books for entertainment, laze about the pool…that kind of things."

She raised one eyebrow at him with some surprise, "That's your kind of stuff Daniel, not mine. Besides, you don't know how things are with a young teenager around, you need to keep them occupied or disaster looms." She smirked at him, "Just like a boss, so I have a lot of practice."

Daniel rolled his eyes, "Oh, very funny."

With a chuckle, Betty turned around to get back to her desk outside of Daniel's office but stopped when she heard a…there was no other word for it, a screech coming from the reception office.

Betty turned her head at the sound of the screaming coming out from the front desk and raised her eyebrows. Okay, looked like there was some unhappy people around after all. She finished straightening her desk and like many others made her way towards the fight out of curiosity.

She followed the growing commotion until she was standing with the crowd at the entrance to Wilhelmina Slater's office, the creative director here at Mode magazine. A skinny peroxide blonde all dress in black was screaming in Wilhelmina's calm face, almost sputtering in her rage. It took a few seconds before Betty was able to filter the screaming words from her coworkers' whispers around her and understand what the woman was saying.

"…it's perfect, you bitch! You have the fashion sense of a monkey! This dress would make Mode known to the whole world because of your association with me. You are not only obviously blind but also incredibly stupid to lose such an opportunity! I am the best new designer in the last decade at the very least! You will be very sorry for this, Wilhelmina Slater! I vow, the name of Mode magazine will be a laughing stock in all the industry by the end of the year!"

The woman looked around her at the snickering faces of the Mode staff with contempt, her face scarlet with anger. Betty was somewhat sorry for the designer, she knew all to well how it felt to be the butt of the joke in front of a crowd. She felt something like an electric shock as the woman eyes fell on her, going round with sudden inspiration.

Without warning, the woman sprang and caught Betty by the arm, jerking her forward to make her stand with her in the center of attention.

"I'll prove it to you all! You see this poor ugly girl in her uninspired, disgustingly plain clothes? I will transform her into the most fashionable girl in town in less than two months! My designs are like magic and can transform the most ugly ducklings into the most envied girl there is!"

The crowd was now laughing with glee at the show, and Betty wanted to die from embarrassment, trying to free herself from the crazy designer's deadly grasp. To her chagrin, the more she struggled, the tighter the woman's grip on her became.

"Come on girl, we have a lot of work to do to prove these fools wrong!" The woman started to walk away, dragging Betty with her.

Betty dug her heels, stopping their progression. "What? Wait! What are you doing? I can't go with you. I already have a job here and responsibilities."

"Don't be an idiot as well as ugly girl! It's your destiny! You were born only so you can show the world my genius! Now, come!" She jerked Betty forward again, intent on getting her to move. Betty resisted.

"No. I don't want to go. Find someone else." Suddenly Betty was no longer finding this woman pitying or funny. Suddenly, she was scared. This crazy designer was stronger than her thin figure suggested, and Betty did not seem to be able to free herself. The woman seemed obsessed with her idea and was crazed enough to actually try and do it.

Fortunately, Daniel had just at that moment the wonderful idea to appear in front of them both, blocking their path toward the elevator. He cleared his throat, eyeing the woman a little nervously. "Hum…My assistant cannot go right now. I have need of her this afternoon for a meeting. You can always come back later if you still want her."

The woman scowled darkly at Daniel. "No. She's _the_ one. I need her now. You can't stop me so close to my moment of greatness. The girl will be my star, my Sistine Chapel, and my best creation." Out of nowhere, the crazy designer took out a gun and placed it on Betty's side, just under her rib cage. The crowd gasped and screamed with surprise and horror as the joke turned into a definitely less funny moment.

Daniel took a step back, looking at the gun in astonishment. "What are you doing? This is crazy! You can't just come here and kidnap my assistant!" He took a deep breath, "Look, maybe we can arrange something. If you put the gun down, I'll make sure your designs have a place of choice in the next issue."

"Too late, sweet face! Mode had its chance and blew it. Now I'll make fashion history all by myself." She dig the gun deeper in Betty's side and waved Daniel aside with a movement of her head, "Now, stand aside or I'll put a hole in her, one that will hurt her without causing prejudice to my plans."

Reluctantly, Daniel moved out of their way and the two women, one dragging her feet all the way, went toward the elevator. When it opened, it was to reveal the image of a very shocked Henry, the accountant who had gone away from Betty's life after learning he was the father of his ex girlfriend's baby. Betty groaned inwardly. This was the worst time for him to come back.

"Wha…what?" Henry mumbled, too surprised to say anything else. Betty's kidnapper reacted by pointing her gun in Henry's direction. "Out of the elevator! NOW!"

Skittishly, Henry complied while the two women, with the gun once again on Betty, went into the cabin.

Daniel turned to Henry as soon as the elevator's doors closed. "Call security downstairs, and tell them that a woman has kidnapped Betty. Tell them she is armed with a gun and quite crazy, so they better be careful. If they can't stop her, tell them to call the police and direct them to Wilhelmina's office…and mine."

At the rather stunned nod from Henry, Daniel went to look for answers for the last Mode crisis down the hall toward Wilhelmina Slater.

"So, who is this crazed woman who thinks she is the next best thing in fashion?"

Comfortably sitting in Wilhelmina's white office, sipping a coffee, Daniel was keen on learning what had started it all. He was not really worried about his assistant. In the slight chance the security guards weren't able to stop the woman downstairs, the police should have no trouble finding her. The woman was a lunatic after all, she probably didn't have enough brain to hide from the police. She also needed Betty for her so called great plan, so she would probably not hurt her. All in all, Betty was in for a possible traumatic experience but should not suffer more than that. Good thing his assistant vacation was coming up! She was going to need it.

"She claims her name is Belinda Leona Bremen-Constantin, but I suspect that's her designer's signature. She signs BLBC on her designs. Her real name is not listed in her file, but her home address is." Wilhelmina flicked her wrist in an elegant, dismissing wave, "I believe the police will not have any problems finding her." She pointed at the pages of drawing littering her desk, "I knew she was crazy as soon as I saw her designs. They're not exactly wrong, but the cut and the details are slightly off. Of course, only someone with an exquisite eye for fashion would be able to detect it."

Daniel was very careful to keep his features completely blank as he answered, "Of course."

Wilhelmina stood and with a few swishing steps went to pour herself some water from the designer bottle standing on a side table, before swirling around to elegantly lean on the table, her ankle crossed to show her long legs better. She thoughtfully sipped her water while looking at Daniel before finally stating, "You know, we could use this little incident to our advantage. The story of a gunpoint kidnapping in our office could both be damaging or free positive publicity, depending on the angle used in the story. If this go to the police, there is no way it can be shushed, you know that. Better than we establish the truth of the matter ourselves with a tight control on the information we leak, give the right angle to the media to use. If we do it correctly, and if we're lucky, we could even make it last for a good week before some other scandal take its place. It would put Mode's name in people's mind. Free publicity is always nice. What do you think?"

Daniel was very sure he didn't like her tone, at all. He was well-aware that she hated him with a passion because his father had put him in charge of Mode out of nowhere when Daniel knew nothing of the fashion business. Wilhemina had been working here for years and had taken for granted that she would be the next editor in chief; Daniel couldn't blame her. She was much more competent to do the job than he was. The first months in had been hell, and it's only due to Betty's efficiency, hard work, and good ideas that he had come through more or less unscathed. Still, Wilhelmina had a bone to chew with him and every time she was even slightly polite or agreeable around him, he could not help the shiver of dread worming up his spine. The fact that she was right about the media and that she was actually giving him advice while asking for his opinion was more than just suspicious, it was downright frightening. Especially so since she was Meade Senior's new fiancée and due to marry his dad in a few months, what was she up to now? If there was one thing Wilhelmina Slater was a world champion at, it was scheming.

He took a pen on the desk and started to twirl it in his fingers; two could play at nonchalance, he thought. "Why, Wilhelmina, I had no idea you were such an expert in marketing. You really are a woman of many talents. Of course, I too know a few tricks about how to handle the media, I'm sure you are aware of my long standing, hmm, affiliation with them. I've been playing the game with and around them for years. They seem to have a strange fondness for me. Of course, I'm sure my knowledge of how to control information isn't near as complete as yours."

He had been looking at her closely to try and catch the tiniest change in her features. He noticed a tiny tightening at the corner of her everlasting charming smile that disappeared so fast he wondered for a moment if he had imagined it.

"What kind of angle are you suggesting we use, then?" Daniel leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "The unstable, poor designer unhinged by constant denying of what she perceives as her talent? A young, hardworking, normal, victimized secretary who was taken by force from her family and friends? The gun angle, to reignite the controversy around weapons control? Perhaps the whole 'Meade Inc. is a good, employee-centered company and will offer free psychological help to anyone in need of it' stuff?"

"Well, some of that will have to be used, of course, but I was thinking more in the direction of…" Wilhelmina was interrupted by a knock at the door, and Henry's face appearing in the overture.

"So...sorry to interrupt, Mr. Meade, but the security guards were unable to stop the women downstairs…the police is on its way here."

Daniel felt the first twinge of real worry then. He hoped that Betty was okay. She was stronger than most, but even the stoutest character would weaken in a situation like this. Glancing in Wilhemina's direction, he could not help but notice the sudden animation in her eyes. She was glad the scandal was growing bigger. As she had pointed out earlier, with the involvement of the police, there was no way the media circus could be avoided. Daniel resigned himself for a long evening…

With a sigh he turned around toward the door, "Thank you, Henry. When they arrive, send them in here."

Betty was not feeling to well, to tell the truth. The gun pointed in her direction was being wildly waved around to emphasize her kidnapper's finer points all through the long monologue about what a genius she was and how much the world misunderstood her. She went from one topic to the other, from depressed and teary to enthusiast about her big plans.

They were in a cozy limo with tinted windows. The driver did not seemed at all worried with the wild way the gun was handled. Unfazed, he had only asked where to drive them. The unhelpful answer had been only, "Home". Wherever that was. It seemed Betty could not expect help from the driver, and there was no way she could signal someone outside. As soon as the car had started to run, the partition between them and the driver had gone up, she could not see where they were headed. She had surreptitiously tried the door, but it was locked and she could see no way to unlock it. It must be controlled by the chauffeur. She hoped that someone had had the idea to take the plate number of the car, or that "home" was a place where the police could easily find her.

Why? Why did she have to go and see what the commotion was about? Her blasted curiosity was going to be the death of her… Betty gulped. She hoped the saying was not going to prove true. She only had two day left at work before her vacation time! Why did this have to happen now? Weren't things difficult enough as it was? Her father still in Mexico, her sister and nephew grieving Santos, Henry being gone, Daniel's accident a month ago…She had hoped to used her two week vacation to try and put the family minds off the endless problems. She had made a list of all the places in New York where they could have fun and have a change of scenery without taxing their limited funds too much.

After what seemed an eternity to Betty, the car finally stopped. The skinny blonde, still holding the gun, grinned evilly. "Home, at last."

They got out of the car in an interior garage. Betty had no idea where she was, it could be the Meade building garage for all she knew. There was no one around she could see, no policemen, no cameras, no nothing, just two other cars. With the hand of the designer firmly holding her arm and the gun punching a hole in the small of her back, she started to feel the first tendrils of panic etching its way down her suddenly dry throat toward her already clenching belly.

Betty was thrust forward by the strong arm of her kidnapper toward an elevator. The blond opened the doors with a key, it looked like the woman had enough money to buy herself a very private apartment. She pressed the one and only button by inserting her key in it. Betty heart sank further, there was going to be no easy escape if even the elevator button needed a key to work. She had to keep thinking in a positive way. That was her strong point, she had an ability to see the good side in things, it kept hope and faith alive, Betty knew she would need both.

Her positive thinking deserted her as soon as the elevator doors opened into hell on the floor. The only thought that came through the horror was a feeble "Oh my God!"

In front of her was a hall decorated like the dream of a very gothic vampire. All was black, the lights were dim and there was a stream of black flimsy fabric hanging from every corner and from the ceiling like so many spider webs. A beautiful woman in a black form fitting dress and heavy makeup and piercing was walking nearby with a leash in her hand that was attached to the collar of a man wearing only a mask and black boxer shorts. The two passed before them, the woman viciously pulling on the leash while the man staggered behind.

Her mouth hanging with shock and her mind blank, Betty let herself be pushed in the hall in the direction of what looked like a transparent coffin with a woman inside…fortunately, as they approached, Betty could see that the woman was only a mannequin and that the false coffin served as a receptionist desk. Her mind still swirling without being able to latch on a coherent though, Betty could only follow the direction she was pushed to like a puppet without free will.

Behind the desk, the receptionist in a skimpy black suit that left very little to the imagination shrieked and jump up to run toward them. Finally! Someone was coming to her rescue!

No such chance…the girl beamed at her captor and exclaimed in what seemed fluent French, "Bely, chérie! C'est génial de te revoir! On ne t'attendait pas avant la semaine prochaine, j'espère que tout va bien?! On a reçu ton courriel…tout est prêt comme convenu."

The two women did the three kisses in the air near each other's cheeks that the European seems to favor. All this time, the gun had been quite clearly pointed at Betty but the receptionist didn't seem to find it at all dangerous or even odd. By the look of the place, this kind of thing might be common enough not to warrant a second glance. So this was "home"? Gosh, was she in deep trouble or what! The two women chatted with animation for a moment in French before turning toward Betty.

"Is this your new plaything, chérie?" enquired the receptionist, looking Betty up and down with a frown.

"In a way, yes darling, she will do for me what no other can, propel me to the highest level of the fashion industry." She smiled sweetly at Betty, "I have a very special plan in mind for her. Let's lock her up while I go explain to Madame Minou what I need exactly, shall we?"

Her heart in her throat, Betty had no choices but to let herself be led to a small chamber where she was left alone to sink in her misery. The last words her captor said to her didn't do anything to cheer her up any, "Welcome to the very secret and exclusive Black Leather Bondage Club sweetie, no one but its members know it exists. Make yourself comfortable, you're in for the long haul!"


	2. Fight Club

**The Great Makeover Adventure**** (aka: Talk about One Crazy Fairy Godmother)**:

Disclaimer: Okay, we all know I don't own Ugly Betty, right? Right. I thought so.

Thanks for all those who reviewed. Thanks again to Jen my beta for her wonderful help!

_**Chapter 2:**_ Fight Club

_"The rule is perfect: in all matters of opinion our adversaries are insane." - _Mark Twain.

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Amanda looked at the retreating backside of the two police officers from her vantage point at her round receptionist desk with some interest. The tall one was not bad looking…then she made her trademark pout and turned to her best friend who was busy eyeing the other officer with evident lust.

She chuckled. Marc and she always were on the same bandwagon, which was the main reason she liked him so much. She did not have to explain herself to him. It was almost like he could read her mind or was her masculine double.

"He is cute, isn't he…? " She sight a little and turned her mind on more important matter. "Well Marc, what did she said?"

"Who said what about what, sweetie?"

She swatted him on the arm, "You know what! What did Wilhelmina say about the big cow Betty getting her underserved two and a half second of glory?"

"Oh, that…hmm…let me think…how did Willy put it?…Oh yes. She said, and I quote. 'It was like looking at a crazy rendering of an old episode of The Ugly and the Beast; bad fashion, bad lines and very bad breath. Betty and that woman are two of a kind, really. I hope they fall in love, kill each other and get out of our lives forever.' "

"Oooooh! I love your boss, Marc. She is so evil." Amanda pursed her glossy lips with distaste, "That designer is really crazy though. Thinking that anyone on earth could turn horrible Betty into anything close to fashionable is truly demented. The girl would not even know how to act like a star….but I would. "

"Oh! Do I smell a devilishly good plan to bring down our detested colleague and steal the show? If so, you can count me in."

"Well, maybe…depends on how things progress. I know some people who know some people…you know how it is. The short of it is that I can see if I can sniff anything coming and use it to my…our advantage. I'm sure being kidnapped by a madwoman can be damaging to a girl's reputation…."

Marc beamed at her with his sweet boyish smile, "That's my girl!"

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Daniel had hoped and prayed that he would not have to do this, but now that the police had gone and that everything else was under control. Well, he just didn't have any way to evade the responsibility. He had to call the Suarez family to explain to an already bereaved Hilda that her sister was abducted under his very nose and that for now, they had no idea where she was. The police had sent a patrol down to Miss Bremen-Constantin's apartment right away…and found nothing. They were interrogating everyone downstairs in case someone had seen something, checking if she owned a car, that sort of thing. That didn't make his call to Hilda any easier. There was absolutely nothing he could say to help right now.

He took a deep breath, grabbed the phone and composed the familiar number.

"Hi Justin… its Daniel, Betty's boss."

"Hey Mr. Meade! How are you?"

"I'm…, ok, I guess. You? How's your vacation?"

"Not too bad…. If you want to talk to Aunt Betty, she's not here."

"No, no…I know that. Is your mother around? I'd like to talk to her for a moment."

"Yeah…she's here but she's asleep in her room…she doesn't sleep very well so she's taking a nap."

"Oh."

Cowardly, Daniel decided to wait. He couldn't say to Justin just like that, that her aunt was missing. And he didn't want to upset Hilda more than she was. Let her sleep for now.

"Okay then…hmm, do you think it would be all right if I come around your place after dinner, say, seven o'clock? There's something that I need to tell you both, you and your mom."

"Ah, yeah, sure. I'll tell mom. What about Aunt Betty? Will she be here too? Is everything all right?"

Aarrg! The intuition of youth! What to say now?

"I…I don't know Justin, That's part of what I need to talk to you about. Just don't worry and don't disturb your mom about it. I'll see you tonight. Bye."

Daniel put down the phone with the feeling he just had a reprieve from hell. With any luck the police will have a lead before seven or better yet, Betty will have found a way to escape her kidnapper and reappear before dinner time. The last thing he wanted to do was to cause grief to Justin and Hilda for no reasons at all. He just hoped the press was not already on it. The worst case scenario was for the Suarez family was to learn it all on TV.

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Betty was not happy. She had been stuck in this little room for hours without food, water or the use of any facilities. She had screamed for help, pounded on the door to ask, at the very least, the use of the loo…nothing. She was starting to be afraid that they had simply forgotten her here to rot. These people were all crazy. How was she supposed to know how a crazy person is going to react next!

She was trying to calm herself with some reasoning. Someone had to come in here eventually, if only to clean it. What's more, that crazy woman said she needed her for her plans, so she couldn't let her stay here indefinitely, right?

Betty was so intent in trying to control both her fears and her bladder that she was taken unaware when the door did open.

Her captor and a big, muscular looking guy were there. Before she had the time to start asking questions or complain about anything, they had grabbed her and were dragging her though endless corridors and stairs that all looked gloomily alike until they arrived at a section that was decorated in a medieval theme. Betty started getting a bad feeling then, that became a black certitude when they stopped in front of a row of wood doors that looked exactly like what a dungeon is supposed to look like in movies and cartoons, up to the small opening set with bars. The big guy took out a set of keys and opened one of the doors with it.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me! I'm not going in there! No way! Look I really, really need to go the bathroom…please, even war prisoners are giving that right! What about the Geneva Convention? You can't do this! I don't believe it!"

Ignoring her pleas and demands, the big hulk just took her arm and pushed her inside the cell. When she found her balance again and whirled around, the door was closing with a bang, the click of the lock felt like the closing of a coffin to Betty.

Her gaze still incredulously locked on the door was diverted by the clearing of a throat. She had been so shocked to find herself a prisoner in a fake medieval dungeon that she had failed to register that her kidnapper was also in the cell with her. Without a gun in sight.

"There's a small cabinet over there behind the partition in the corner where you can refresh yourself, feel free to use it. Then, we'll talk, or more exactly, I'll talk and you'll listen."

Betty's confusion turned to anger in a split second. She wanted nothing more than to jump on the false blonde and rip her to shreds with her bare hands. Unfortunately, nature's call was not to be denied and the thought of close relief was enough to turn Betty around.

To her immense relief, there was a complete, if tiny, modern bathroom tucked in a closet-like room in the corner. There even was a small shower stall, toothpaste, brush, hand cream…everything a woman needs.

The walls were still covered with false stone wallpaper to keep with the dungeon concept, but at least her captors were not crazy enough to push the joke into insanity. There was electric lights and hot water and Betty was human enough to take the time to wash her face and arrange her hair before confronting that horrible woman again.

When she came back onto the cell like room, she found the blond waiting for her, seated on the narrow bed against the wall, looking completely at ease as if they were in her sitting room at home.

Her kidnapper pointed a finger at a lone hard stool in the middle of the room. "Sit."

"No." Betty crossed her arms with determination and stayed where she was. She was not going to accept this situation without a fight. "Explain yourself. Now."

The blonde shrugged, "Very well." She eyed Betty with some speculation before going on, "You are in a secret and exclusive club that my father owned and created for the most bored, eccentric and rich clients he had in his business. It was a kind of side line for him, a hobby. At first it was very small, but over the years it had grown and changed and began to become more than just a sideline into a real investment that brought back its share of profit. It now spawns into four floors and includes a great variation of entertainment. Most of the members only see the part that interest their peculiar taste and never sees the rest, only a select few knows of the entirety of it. Of course, the authorities know nothing of it. We are extremely safe here."

Betty growled and rolled her eyes, "I'm not in the slightest interested by the history of this garish place. What am I doing here? Why have you brought me here? Who are you? What are you going to do with me? I want to go home! You have no right to keep me here!"

The woman just raised a delicate eyebrow at her outburst, "Why, you little ungrateful whiner... As I've told your creative director, I'm the best fashion designer to ever live. You are here to show the world my genius. You should be on you knees thanking me for taking you in! Because of me, you will become a superstar, an eye opener for the world. You will even be compensated for your work for me. I'm known to be quite generous with my money to those who know their place and do as they are told . As for the rest…you will stay here and model my clothes for me. We will take pictures, videos in different settings. Then you will be release."

Betty sigh with some relief…after seeing this place, some very gruesome thoughts had been plaguing her. One thing less to worry about. "When? How long are you planning to keep me here? I've told you I have a family, responsibilities…my sister have just lost her fiancé, she needs me with her."

"Oh please! Bring out the violins so we can all commiserate!" The amused contempt in her captor's voice made Betty grit her teeth.

"You're staying here as long as it'll take for the world to recognize my work and my worth. Pray that it happens fast. Or you won't see your sister before she's gray-headed and plied with grandchildren and rheumatism."

The blond laughed at her own joke and got up to turn toward the door. Visibly the interview was finished. Betty, hotwired with fear and anger, kept herself in check until the door was unlocked before jumping on the woman, intent on pushing her aside and make a wild dash for freedom.

Without knowing how it had come about, Betty soon found herself painfully pushing herself from the floor, her eyeglass askew on her face and her whole body throbbing with pain.

"Did I mentioned that I'm a Karate black belt? Second Dan. No? Well, now you know." The blonde smirked down at Betty still sprawled on the floor in front of her. "We'll have to put some muscles on you…and make you lose some of that fat. I think exercising and dieting are in order. Wouldn't you agree? Yes, yes…let see…hmm…yes, Bret could take you two hours in the morning for some workout and I'll order Jimmy our cook to send you only some carrots, salad, vegetables soup…a few fruits when you're good…and water of course. Water is so good for your health; it washed out all the impurities. Thank you for reminding me of those basic needs." Her tight smile turned into a dangerous teeth exposed, predatory grin, "Every time you'll make things difficult, Jimmy will be ordered to reduce your portions and variety in your meals….by the look of things, you seem to like good food so I recommend that you behave or you'll find your stay with us very hard indeed."

She turned back at the opened door, "Ta ta for now, I'll see you tomorrow for some more fun. Oh, and you can call me Bely…everyone does."

The door closed before Betty could even think of something to say. She let herself slid back down on the cold , damp, real stone floor with despair. This was bad, really bad. No one knew where she was. By the look of the staff here, she had very slim chances to overwhelm someone, find her way back through the maze of corridors to the elevator or stairs and escape. Not to mention she had no idea where this building was and she had no money, credit card or cell phone on her…her bag was back at Mode. Her only chance was to contact someone outside or wait up until she had more information about the place and act at a moment when her captors though her beaten down…then she would have a better chance of escape.

With a deep sigh, Betty roused herself from the hard floor and went to sit on the bed. She was already hungry and had nothing to look forward to but carrot stick and water. Her roaming eyes settled with some trepidation on the manacles dangling down from short chains set up on the wall, deepening the sense of unreality that haven't left her since her abduction. What was a girl like her doing in a place like this? Her near future looked as gloomy as the decor right now...

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Daniel knocked on the Suarez's front door a little after seven with some apprehension. The police had found nothing. It looked like the plate number from the limo that took Betty was so smudged with mud that no one could read it. It was a limo like there are thousands in the city…the police was down to interrogating everyone who knew miss Bremen-Constantin only to learn that she had just came back from an extensive business trip from across Europe, and no one knew where she was or what she might be up to these days. Her parents were both dead, and she had no siblings and seemed to have more business associates than friends. All in all, one dead end after another.

The police officers Daniel have talked to had told him it might take some time. They'll have to check with some other of her acquaintances, overseas and in other states…they'll have to check motels, restaurants, put a tab on the kidnapper's credit cards, put out Betty's pictures on missing person billboard and forums…the usual stuff. The long and the short of it was that Betty and the designer had disappeared and went deep into hiding. There was no easy way to get his assistant back, it was definitely going to take time.

How in hell was he going to stand working without Betty's help at his beck and call? He could not imagine his day to day routine without her pestering him to do his best, encouraging him when he had doubts or giving him that special smile of hers when she was happy with how things turned out? Never has he been so conscious of all the little details she cared for or how much he trusted and depended on her efficiency. And now was when he missed her most of all…now when he was faced with the daunting task of telling her family she was gone.

He took a big breath when the door opened, half hoping that it would be Betty who would be standing there. Some of his disappointments and anxiousness must have shown through his mask of false calm for Hilda's features melted from a welcoming smile to a frown.

"Hi Hilda."

"Hi Daniel….Where's Betty?"

"That's what I'm here to talk to you about…can I come in?"

The frown turned into a look of fear, and Hilda's body just crumbled against the door frame. "Oh my God…Not again. Please, not again."

Daniel cursed silently at his lack of tact and went in to take Hilda's arm and closed the door behind him. "Don't think the worse so fast Hilda, will you? As far as I know, Betty's okay."

He brought her to the first chair he saw in the sitting room where she let herself fall.

"As far as you know? What do you mean?"

Daniel turned to see Justin in the doorway to the dining room with a dishtowel and a plate in his hands.

"Hmm…yes…well." He sighs and passed a hand in his spiky hair. "Why don't you sit down, Justin?"

Justin slowly came forward, his eyes never leaving Daniel and put the plate and the towel on a low table before sitting down on the sofa.

"Wha…what happened? I saw on fashion TV that the police had been at Mode today but no one seemed to know why."

Daniel nod and felt somewhat relieved to learn than the staff had followed instruction and have not talked to the media. They were setting a press conference for the next morning, Daniel was going back at Mode after talking with Hilda and Justin to decide with his father, Alexis and Wilhelmina exactly what was the best strategy.

"Yes…the police was at Mode today. We had a…an incident with a designer. She was not happy to be denied a spot in a future issue and….well to make a long story short, she had a gun...she took Betty hostage and disappeared with her."

"WHAT?"

Defeated in his efforts to try and give the bad news without destroying their hope, Daniel sat down with a groan and hid his face in his hands shortly, trying not to see the horror descending on them.

Struggling to find the right words, he explained to them what happened and what was done by the police to find Betty. He didn't hold anything back, they had a right to know. He gave Hilda the police officer's number and name that was in charge of the case and told her that the police would come to see them later tonight or by the next morning. They have wanted to make sure to check every possibility before making it an official missing person case, one like hundreds other like it, the ones no one ever solves until they find a body to match…

"But…but…what…how long…the money, the house."

That's when the reality of their situation was made real to Daniel. Hilda had barely finished a cosmetic course and had no job, Santos' death had put everything else on the back burner. Their father was in Mexico fighting for his right to come back home. Betty was taking care of everything, she was the sole support for the whole family. He couldn't believe how stupid he'd been…he had heard Betty talk to lawyers on the phone, had heard her mutter curses about money under her breath at each pay day, but as usual, he had been so wrapped up in himself that he had not though about what this new situation would really mean for Hilda in a real, material way.

"Look Hilda, don't worry, okay? Betty had her vacation coming, she'll have her pay for that and I'll send her checks here for you. If she's not back afterward, I'll arrange something… she pays for the company's health insurance, she has a right for paid sick leave for about a couple of month. I'll make sure she can receive it, so you can have at least something. I think they give about 70 of the salary…it's not much but it's better than nothing. If you need more, I'll help."

He stopped he exclaimed denial with a raised hand. "Please Hilda, Betty's my friend too and she's saved my ass a few times. I don't want her to come back only to discover that you and Justin are out in the street and that I stayed put without doing anything. She would kill me. You know that you're everything for her, so please to insure my continuing living, I need you to let me help you." He shrugged, "Besides, we're far from there yet. The police will probably find her pretty soon."

He checked his watch and rose. "I have a meeting at Mode to prepare the press conference…" He looked at the two Suarez holding each other's hand to try and stay strong in this new ugly twist of fate. "Are you going to be okay?" Stupid question, of course they're not going to be okay! "I…I mean, do you need anything? Is there something I can do?"

Hilda raised her moist eyes, she seemed so lost. "Thanks Daniel, but no. We're okay for now. If you have any news…"

"Sure, you'll be the first to know."

He went to the door and opened it, looking a last time at the old, empty house with only two member of the family struggling to keep it all together, and hoped there was more. More that he could say, more that he could do, more that he could give them. He has never felt so inadequate in his life, not even in the first few days as editor-in-chief of Mode.

He closed the door behind him. Then he heard it. The howl of pain and the sound of shattered china, the sound of Spanish curses, the dull sound of various object being hurled randomly through space, the sound of young tears…the sounds of pain. He closed his eyes to try to keep his own emotions in check and when he was sure he has succeeded, he went down to the waiting town car, feeling like a coward running with his tail between his legs.

TBC…


	3. Picture Perfect

**The Great Makeover Adventure**** (aka: Talk about one Crazy Fairy Godmother)**

**Disclaimer:** Characters, plot, etc…Still not mine. Love to play with it though. Especially Daniel…(sigh)

(Getting mind out of the gutter…) Oh right, story time…here comes chapter 3. It's actually an added chapter; it wasn't supposed to be there in the first draft. Enjoy!

A/N:Great thanks again and always to my Beta Jennifer who took my mistakes filled chapter and made it into something readable for all of you. And a huge thanks to all who reviewed…I really like doing something different and original. That was what I'm strugling for and I love that you like it so.

_**Chapter 3:**_ Picture Perfect

_"The absence of flaw in beauty is itself a flaw." _Havelock Ellis_ (1914_

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The next week was a nightmare straight from hell in Betty's point of view. She would rised at the crack of dawn and brought to a gym where her very private and sadistic trainer made her go through endless cruel exercises until she was ready to drop. Her nights were filled with the dreams of him dying slowly, crushed by the huge exercise ball or strangled by one of the machines strap. Two hours every morning of running, stretching, stepping, pedaling and most of all sweating until she was sure her heart would burst was enough to raise an unbound hatred for both Bely and Bret in her heart of hearts. Really, she was a good and nice person, but this was just pushing her good nature to the limit. Unfortunately, she was too tired and hungry to protest. She had tried. At first, she had refused to do anything. She was pushed on a treadmill by the simple means of grabbing her and putting her on it before the machine was started. She had had no choices but to run. Every time she tried to revolt, her next meal would be smaller. If she cooperated, she would receive a treat in the form of more health food or small fruits for dessert. She was growing really tired of healthy stuff…

But that was not the worst of it. After her two long hours of torture, she would then be dragged to another section of the huge club where she was stripped naked, cleaned and manhandled by a flurry of women who worked in silence, never answering her questions. Her eyebrows were plucked, her hair was cut and cruelly pulled in every direction then smeared in some horrible chemical products until she was ready to scream. Every inch of her body was creamed,,pinched, scrubbed, and striped of hair. She was measured, weighted, and painted on without a mirror around. She was put in putrid mud baths with smelly facials on while having to endure some supposedly soothing weird Japanese mystic music. She felt like a freak in a laboratory, being studied and experimented on, like an object without will to be worked on but not appreciated. She would eat her meager lunch in that chair, alone and secured in the locked room, and then the women would come back to continue whatever they were doing to her. She was always brought back to her cell at the end of the afternoon where she had not enough energy to do anything but crash on her little bed and take a nap before dinner was brought to her. And thus the days went by, leaving Betty hurting everywhere and steadily losing hope.

A change of pace came one morning when instead of bringing her to the usual room after her workout her guard brought her back to her cell. She wondered what it meant and took her first shower alone, without anyone around to prod and examine her. It was heaven. She should have known it wasn't going to last. She had not seen Bely since the day she had been brought here, so she was quite surprised to see her captor strut into the cell with her hands full of clothes, followed closely by other women also carrying boxes and fabrics. What was going on?

They put an unimaginable amount of stuff spread on every available surface without a word or a glance toward Betty and then stopped and looked at Bely, awaiting her orders.

"It is nearly time for your first appearance, girl. Let's see what we have here that would be suitable. Strip down to your underwear."

Blushing madly, Betty did as she was told knowing by now that it was futile to make a fuss and took off the gray sweat suit that was her uniform since the first day here.

She stood there and let them all swirl around her, putting fabrics near her face, or around her hips, following Bely's orders and suggestions. After a while, some of the boxes were sent back and others were brought in. Then, Betty was asked to stand on the stool and clothes pushed on her to try on. There were all long, beautiful evening dresses, black, dark green or purple made of silks and gauze, some with delicate embroideries, others with another color accent, a few with a high waistline…Betty felt like both like a pincushion as adjustments were done to the dresses not always too gently, and like a princess before a ball being attended too by servants.

"Damn! Nothing works on you, girl! What kind of woman are you?!"

Betty felt a surge of hope, the way to freedom might lie in Bely's discovery that she was the wrong person to complete her big plans! She pushed away the small clenching of her heart at the thought that even gorgeous dresses could not make her beautiful. She already knew that, didn't she? There was no point in trying to believe otherwise.

"I told you, you should have taken someone else. Now you can let me go. I won't tell anyone about this place, I promise!"

Bely let out an unlady-like snort, "Don't be ridiculous. You are not going anywhere. You are a challenge, I'll grant you that, but my genius knows no bound. I'll find a way…"

She looked at Betty with her eyebrows drawn into a meditating frown. "You are different…I'll have thus to take a different approach. You see, fashion is like any other art form. It is used to enhance what is already there, not the other way around. It's like words in a song or brush stokes in a painting. Clothes are not the end, but they are ub a wat just the tools to get there. The real art happens when the whole is more than just the sums of the parts. Since you're a part of that whole, I have to find a way to bring you out, not drown you out…. "

"But that's crazy! It might look okay on me, but it won't look good on anyone else! You won't sell a lot of clothes that way."

Bely laughed, "Don't you know anything, little girl? High fashion is about art, not convenient store sells! I have plenty of money, what I want is recognition. You'll be my masterpiece; something that everyone will agree is pure genius, but no one will ever be able to reproduce. They all think that fashion is solely about the clothes and that their job stops at making beautiful wrapping for already beautiful people. I'll show them that their art is a living, breathing thing that changes and evolves their canvas not inanimate and the possibilities of their inspiration endless. Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder, it's in the way it touches others. When people see the Mona Lisa, no one exclaims on how beautiful it is, they shiver in front of it and express their awe and their devotion. I've seen people spontaneously burst into tears in front of it, or get drawn to their knees when they look up at the Sistine Chapel's ceiling. It goes beyond mere beauty, into the realm of the divine. There is no use in trying to analyze it piece by piece, you can only take it in as a whole and let it pierce you apart by its grandeur. It's an experience, its art."

Betty caught the gleam of exultant madness in the designer's eyes, aghast with fright. _Oh boy, she's even crazier than I thought her to be!_ Her scared thoughts were interrupted by the continuous raving…Bely was now pacing excitedly in front of Betty's stool, the other woman respectfully lining the walls, giving their mistress place to express herself.

"Believe me, when I'm finished with you, you'll be hailed as a living expression of perfection, a breathing proof of God's existence. Not in a stilted and unnatural environment where everything is controlled, no, but in a moving, organic, natural way. I will give the world the Holy Grail of fashion. I will turn the normal, the secular into the sacred, take the imperfections, the flaws and transform them into greatness."

She suddenly stopped, her eyes lit by the internal fire of unexpected inspiration…."Yeah… It could work, that's the angle…" She whispered almost inaudibly, visibly speaking to herself, "I will take the flaws, incorporate them and mold them with the rest…perfection is only attainable by first accepting and integrating the imperfect…Yes. I could have one modified and ready in two days…"

She looked up at Betty and examined her slowly in silence. Then she nodded as if reaching a decision and barked to the girl still perched on the stool, "Get out of that dress, on you it's definitely unbecoming." Turning to her helpers, she gave directions to take all the clothes, the boxes and the fabrics out of there.

As soon as Betty was out of her attire, it was taking from her hands and the procession soon filled out of her cell without any other ado.

--------------------

Daniel sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. It was almost midnight and he was still at work, rewriting the editor's letter for the start of the next issue in order to put an appeal out to their readers about Betty's whereabouts. After all, Mode magazine was largely published throughout the country and even outside of it, and since that crazy designer was linked to the fashion industry, people out there reading the magazine might have seen Betty or know of Miss Berman-Constantin. The police had hit dead-ends after dead-ends and were at a lost, so the idea of a plea to the public through the magazine was as good as anything else they could come up with. There was going the be another national televised press conference on Sunday with Hilda and Justin in attendance to beg the kidnapper to come out and at least prove that Betty was still alive. They were lucky as it was, this was summer and there was notoriously little that was going on in the summer season, so the press, especially the tabloids, had little more titillating to offer their readers and were milking the kidnapping as much as they could. Some of the wild theories were somewhat funny and other were downright weird or even gruesome but at least it meant that Betty was still in people's mind and that gave them a better chance of finding her. The Suarezes were trying to use the up going rumors to raise money for Betty's release and the effect on Mode's sells was evident if not exactly spectacular.

For all those reasons, Daniel was finding it quite difficult to write the little piece. Ever since Betty had showed him he was capable of writing the editor's note by himself, he had struggled at each issue to do it right, but this one was by far the hardest he ever had to write. There was so many conflicting hopes relying on this short note; Hilda and Justin hoped that it would move people to help find Betty and so wanted it to be an emotional plea for her, Wilhelmina and his father counted on it to raise awareness and interest about the magazine and thus make profit so they were angling for a more interesting gossipy tidbits, the police wanted to see facts and descriptions so that readers could call on with possible leads…and there was himself too to consider. He was the one writing the damn thing after all, and he was finding it difficult not letting his own needs and emotion take precedence on everyone else's. The problem was he was not one to ponder his feelings and there were all jumbled right now. Betty was his friend, but he knew that she was also something more. Not something as stupid as romantically more…no, but she was also something of a teacher. For some unfathomable reason, she seemed to see more in him that anyone else ever did or could, and because of that, she was intent on making him see those sides of him he had no idea even existed. He could not take on himself to use the note for nothing else but a vehicle for others ambitions, he wanted that note to show his respect for her and his feeling of lost since her disappearance.

After hours of frustratingly trying to put everything that everyone wanted to say into a mere three hundred words, he discovered that it was absolutely impossible and stopped trying. Instead, he decided to follow Betty's advice and write what he wanted to say, and it came out better than he anticipated. He made Hilda's wish into his own and made the plea in both their names, he thanked the readers for their steadfastidness in this time of hardship and asked for their help in finding the culprit. It was not too cloying and he thought even Wilhelmina might be okay with it.

He was almost done when his computer biped to indicate that a priority message had just came in. Out of habit, he checked it….and there it was, the picture. It was not even only addressed to him, but to most of the media as well as all the Mode staff. The picture was in black and white, and it was of Betty, but it was a Betty like he ha never seen before. She visibly was in a cell. By the looks of things, she also seemed kinda scared but what you immediately see was her face…she still had glasses on but they were thin and delicate and made her brown eyes looked bigger, her long dark hair had been cut a little bit shorter in a way that make it looked fluffy, surrounding her face with softness. She was wearing make up but not so much that you couldn't see some of the imperfections of her skin. Her eyebrows were two thin arches over her eyes, giving her frightened face a delicate look. The high waist black cocktail dress she had on emphasized her breast and was cut in a crooked angle down to her thigh, where her left leg showed a lot more skin than her right. It was a bizarre dress but its strangeness, when taking with the medieval cell and the half-dazzled, half-scared look on Betty's face, was the perfect touch. It looked real and beautiful. Betty's big round eyes had a silent plea in them and seemed to go right through the soul with its intensity.

The message accompanying the picture was short and clear. "_This is the start of a new era of fashion. Before your very eyes, you will see this poor girl change from a little mouse to the most beautiful living creation under the sun. In three days, a video will be sent to you with the first real footage of 'The Change'. Beware the magic of BLBC for it will change forever the meaning of beauty._"

Daniel groaned and passed a weary hand down his face. The media was going to have a field day with this one. He would have to schedule another press conference to answer this new development.

He just hoped Betty was okay. She looked so frightened in the picture…with a sigh he forwarded the e-mail to his contact for the case at the police. Maybe they would find some clue in it that would help them find her. He didn't have much confidence anymore that the investigation would bring fast result. Officer Benson who was in charge was not very helpful or hopeful. For him, it was just another case, like so many others. For the Suarezes, it was the difference between hope and despair.

There was nothing else he could do. He closed his computer and turned off the lights, grabbed his jacket and headed home to his solitary bed for another sleepless night.

Wilhelmina Slater allowed herself a satisfied smile while hanging the phone and placing it back in its cradle on the bedside table. Everything was going according to plan. She turned on the bed toward her fiancée with a gracious twitch of her elegantly and sparingly clad hips.

"Well dear, Officer Benson is a very accommoding man. He's ready to slow the investigation to a crawl in return for almost nothing. I so love an easily corrupted man."

Bradford Meade smiled at his bride to be while offering her a glass of champagne. "What is he asking for? Money?"

"Of course, but not just money…w ould you believe that he's asking for a date with Alexis? It seems that he find the idea of sex change intriguing…and very kinky…to each their own, I guess."

Bradford Meade could not hide the shiver and the disgust in his face before he shrugged it off. "That's more corruption than I can deal with. I'm glad you talked to him."

He glanced at the picture of Betty Suarez on the laptop screen sitting on the bed between the two of them. It was a black and white picture sent by that crazy designer who had kidnapped the girl. That Bremen-Constantin gal seemed to want to use the girl for her own publicity. It was a dangerous move, but one that could pay off. He wished he could contact the woman. They could arrange something together to bring Mode into the deal. Unfortunately that was not an option. Officer Benson indicated that, even without the bribe, the investigation was going nowhere. They would have to surf the wave created by this new development.

Wilhelmina chirped in, visibly following his thought process, "The media is going to go in frenzy with such a juicy story in the middle of summer. Do you want us to continue with the angle we have used so far?"

"I guess so. Everyone is lapping it up without a fuss. With everything that happened in the last few months, we can't afford to bring Mode to deep into the scandal. I'll make a show of going to the police station to ask for a report and will make a statement to the press that the police have my utmost confidence. I'll play the worried boss and good citizen; I even plan to send the Suarez family a little check. Not too much, of course, but just enough so that they don't think of suing Meade Inc. for lack of security in the building."

He took a sip of champagne before asking, "How about the next issue? Do you think you can control Daniel?"

"Of course I can. He's just a young pup. I have every picture of Betty I could get my hands on…Daniel was even able to get some from her family album. He thinks it will be used to help in the investigation. There's some very ugly one from when she was a kid. There will be no problem to showcase her as a poor victim. Look at the fright in her face. I'll use a close up of it and nobody will see anything else."

"Good. If this Bremen-Constantin wants to smudge Mode, we can't let her. We'll portray Suarez as a poor girl and her kidnapper as a lunatic. The rest of the fashion world will follow and she won't have anything to stand upon. She will be the laughing stuff, not Mode."

Wilhelmina raised her own glass in a silent salute, "In the meantime, the scandal will put Mode's name on everyone's lips and with the investigation slowed to a crawl and dear Melinda doing her damndest to stay on the news, we have the rest of the summer with a good, easy publicity. Especially with Suarez as a victim and the great Bradford Meade as the good-doer, every women's eyes in the city will cry bitter tears for Betty's fate and their heart will sigh with longing at your face, dear. I will have to make sure that everyone knows we're engaged."

Smiling with satisfaction, Bradford Meade raised his glass too, "A win-win situation, those are the one I prefer."

"You have such a devious mind, Bradford. How can I resist such strength, such intelligence?" Wilhelmina leaned down to embrace him with all appearance of deep passion.

"We are so alike, you and I. I feel blessed to have you in my life." Bradford held his fiance in a hug and never saw his beloved rolling her eyes with disdain as he started to kiss her graceful neck.

Alexis closed the television with a snort of disbelief. She couldn't stomach to see Bradford Meade lavishly showering money and lies to the media and the police to "help the investigation". His face was so innocent and seemed so truthful, so generous and noble. She had been caught by his lies, just like everyone else. When she was young, her father was everything she ever wanted; he was perfect in her eyes. She was his firstborn, his boy, his trophy to show the world, he was so proud of his little Alex Meade. She believed him. She believed every one of his lies. He told her so many times how much they would do together, how they would lead the Meade family and enterprise toward growth and success. He told her how much he counted on her help, how much he trusted and loved her.

All that changed so fast when he first suspected then was sure of his son peculiar nature. Pride transformed into horror, love became hatred and trust disappeared. Through it all he kept the charade…even in front of his wife and Daniel. No one should know, the shame, the taint on the family was not to be discovered.

Bradford Meade was so skilled at lying and concealing that no one could detect it. Not even her. Time and time again, she had believed, trusted, through numerous psychiatrist and even some mystical oriental "treatment"…he had promised that he would help her. She thought he wanted her to understand what she was, but no, he was paying specialists to try and explain why her feelings where wrong. For years she had thought herself crazy or sick. For years she had believed her father. Not any more. Every word he ever uttered was a lie. It was sickening the way that even now, the mere sigh of him on a screen had the power to disturb her so.

Now, because of his skilled performance, everyone thought he was so good and nice. As if he ever did anything without having a hidden agenda. She had to show the world what Bradford Meade was capable of. She would prove it and when he would fall, she would be the first to dance on his grave.

With a new determination, she grabbed the phone and dialed a number.

"Melanie? Hi, it's Alex…Meade…Yeah, that's right, its Alexis now. How are you?...Good. Hmm, listen, I was wondering, do you remember the name of that PI that you hired to look around a few years back about your ex little escapades? Really? Do you still have the number? That's great! Thanks Mel."

She hung up and smiled grimly at the number she had written down. "Now Mr. Meade, I will find what you don't want anyone to find and I'll break you, I swear."

TBC.


	4. Scream

**The Great Makeover Adventure**** (aka: Talk about one Crazy Fairy Godmother)**

**Disclaimer:** You know the drill…. Not mine, not getting any richer with this, no suing necessary….

A huge thanks to all who reviewed, and a still bigger one to my wonderful beta Jen…your're the best!

rainbow rocker: Yes, of course, don't you worry! This story will eventually be Daniel/Betty…I can't imagine our Betty with ending up with anyone else.

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_"One need not be a chamber to be haunted;  
One need not be a house;  
The brain has corridors surpassing  
Material place."_

-Emily Dickinson

_**Chapter 4**_ : Scream

Betty was filled with dread. Something bad was going to happen her, so much so that she could feel it in her bones. Of course she had a few tangible hints too; first, Bely's faithful servants had descended on her after her usual work out and prepped her out like a turkey being ready for the oven in a beautiful black evening dress; then there was that awful amount of activity going in the corridors behind her cell doors. The very air felt electric like the ominous built up before a huge storm. The women fussed with her in her cell for what felt like hours, endlessly arranging this or that until Betty was ready to start screaming with impatience and frustration.

Betty knew that whatever Bely was plotting for today included her in a big way and considering the designer's state of mind Betty was pretty sure it wasn't going to be pleasant. It might be just another photo shoot, but judging by the restlessness exhibited by the girls around her or the half-scared glances they sent her way, she was definitely getting the feeling this was going to be much more than a mere photo shoot. God, she wished she knew what fate was awaiting her. This was killing her. Whatever this thing was, she both hoped that it was going to happen soon and praying it would never come.

Too soon for Betty's nerves, the huge, muscular guy who was her personal guard was opening the door and beckoning her to come out. For a few seconds, Betty considered making a scene and refusing to budge… before accepting the inevitable and marching out on her high heels with as much dignity as she could muster. (That is to say, not much, imprisonment has a tendency to do that to a person.)

She slowly followed her goaler, who held her firmly by the arms, around the corridors and the throng of people running around the place with anxious, hurried and focused looks. What the heck was going on? Maybe the police had finally found her and was getting ready to raid the place? That would be great; unfortunately the excitement in the air was not one of fear, but rather one of expectation.

The closer they came to the center of the whirlwind of people, the more nervous Betty became. And then she heard it: a roar, like a huge animal fevered with pain and anger. "_Oh. My. God. What I have gotten myself into!!"_

Her guard brought her into a really chaotic small room where she immediately was surrounded, again, by a flock of women arranging her dress, her hair or her make up. After what felt like another small eternity, a sudden hush descended on the entire floor as if everyone had stopped moving and breathing at the same time. Without really knowing why, Betty instinctively held her own breath and stood as thought suddenly turned into stone. The feeling of dread was intensifying quickly as she felt her palms get all sweaty. She tried to swallow the lump that had somehow gotten stuck in her throat…

Then the still silence was broken by a voice over the intercom, "Attention everybody. We're in 8 -7-6-5-4-3-…." Suddenly her big guy grabbed her, opened the drapes closing a doorway in the wall and hurtled her through it with a shove.

Trying to keep her balance on her high heels in the sudden darkness and uneven floor, Betty glanced around and came face to face with a human skull leering at her on top of a pole, the pool of darkness in the depth of it's orbit dancing on the firelight and the few string of hair still attached to it dancing on the wind of the damp and putrid air of the rainforest. "_Firelight? Rainforest? Skulls? Wha…?_" Before Betty could start to comprehend what was going on, a movement behind her on the right caught her eyes, which soon grew big with horror as she saw the huge, hardly clad, black man menacing her with a mean-looking spear.

Betty did the only thing that made sense to her in the circumstances; she screamed to high heaven and started running for her life….high heels, evening gown, make up and all.

------------------------------

Alexis marched with determination toward Daniel's office, ready to breathe fire in her indignation. Her brother and she were not on the best of terms but a small truce had been achieved in the aftermath of the accident where they both gave the slip to the reaper. He would understand. She would make him understand. Things could simply not stay like they were, or else she would go stark-raving mad. How could he? How the damn was this permitted?

She opened the door to her brother's office with a crash, and stood there, with that horrible paper still clutched in her hand. "Look at this, Daniel. Look at this trash. Can you believe his nerve? The arrogant bastard!" She would not scream. She was just too angry for screams. The most she could utter was a harsh, slightly controlled grunt through clenched teeth.

She threw the paper on Daniel's desk and started pacing. "How can he do that? To lie a bit for the good of the company, that I can understand, it's normal. But to twist the truth so shamelessly, to put those words in my mouth, to destroy all my hard work with a few lies!! I won't have it. I need to prove him wrong! And I will…Ohhhh, I will. I'll crush him like the obnoxious roach he his. I'll make him pay."

Daniel took the paper and glanced at the bold headline. "**Bradford Meade, family man**." He had read it of course and had dismissed it as nothing but damage control done flawlessly by his father. Visibly, Alexis was not in agreement of this assessment of the situation. The piece had been done following the donation that his father had given the Suarez family. In the article, he made a few sorrowful comments about the importance of family and how much he wished for Betty to come back to hers. He stated that he hoped his own would grow closer with his incoming nuptials. He even declared that Alexis and he were working on their differences and that she was growing warmer toward him, going so far as quoting something she had allegedly said about her "great dad".

"That's just custom political media control, Alex. You shouldn't take it so personal." He was startled when his sister turned about and fixed him with such a furious glare that he was surprise there was no smoke coming out of her ears. He had the grace to get a little flushed and look embarrassed. "I'll give you that he did really buttered it up good and that he might have gone a little farther than was wise, but…"

"But nothing! Do you know how long I've worked to take him down, Daniel? Years! I had him where I wanted, in prison, wretchedly living with the dregs our society can create, humiliated, defeated, destroyed! Shackled in a dark place where he could not hurt any of us any longer. But no. He had to bounce back on his feet like always and brought Mom down. I've worked so hard to show the world what a cold, unfeeling bastard he is and now…now…this…thing happens and destroys it all."

She suddenly stopped and collapsed on a chair as if the fight was taken out of her. "He's using Betty's kidnapping to smart up his image. That last series of photos are all over the news and the people on the street are fascinated by it. He's milking it up for all its worth and it's working. If this goes on for a while longer, he'll be hail as the model of Christian virtue and business respectability. We have to stop it, Daniel."

Daniel got up from behind his desk and came to sit opposite his sister on another chair. "Look, Alex, I know this is hard for you, but you have to be patient. The whole thing will blow over as soon as Betty's found safe and sound. Just let the police do their job, even if it's longer than we thought it would take. In the meantime, the magazine's sales are booming and everyone's trying to get a part of the pie. Dad's just doing his job using an unexpected situation to his advantages. To tell you the truth, if it was anyone else but Betty in the clutches of a madwoman I probably wouldn't give a shit and would do just as Dad is doing, riding the wave as far as it would get me." He sighed and treaded his hand in his hair. "But it is Betty and the wave is getting bigger by the hour, not smaller. I don't know what to tell you, Alex. There's nothing we can do but wait and see, as frustrating as it can be."

Alexis looked at him thoughtfully. Daniel was much too calm about this, maybe it was time for a little bluff to make him react, "You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"Dad is paying up the police to keep the investigation to a crawl. Even if they do find where poor Betty is kept, they won't do anything until he gives them the get go. He's not letting the wave crash underneath him until he's safe on the sand, Danny. He'll use her until there is nothing else to be gained. That's how he is. That's how he's always been."

Daniel blanched, "How you sure about this? Where did you get that information?"

She shrugged, making sure to keep her face blank, "I have my own friends at the police department."

"God! I can see him do that too. I don't know why it never crossed my mind that he and Wilhelmina could go that far." Daniel angrily got up and walked to his desk, intent on grabbing the phone for a furious screaming match with one screwed-up detective. He growled, "Goddammed Benson is going back to handing traffic tickets so fast he won't know what hit him!"

"Daniel, wait! I have a better idea. If you show your hand, Dad will just pay off the new officer in charge. Better let him think that he's got things under control where the police is concerned."

With the phone on his ear and his finger poised to dial the last numbers, Daniel looked at his sister and for the first time saw the telltale signs of sleepless nights with the slightly darker tone under her eyes that even make up could not hide, the battle fury in her eyes and the tiny drop of her shoulders. Slowly he lowered the handset back on its cradle. "What do you have in mind?"

Breathing more easily since she seemed to have convinced Daniel not to confront the supposedly corrupted cop, she took a small folded paper from her cleavage, looking intently at her brother, "This is the phone number of a very good PI. He could investigate Betty's whereabouts without having to run into endless procedures, corrupted magazine moguls or avid reporters. He could find her much more quickly and stop all this before it goes too far."

She handed him the number, satisfied by the eager way he took it into his hand. "_Gotcha!_"

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Amanda sent her best practiced-in-front-of the-mirror sexy pout in the vendor's direction, "Dear, dear Serge, you know me. I absolutely adore what you sell here and I know for a fact that you are the best when it comes to fashion rumors. So, tell me, what have you heard about that crazy BLBC designer and what is the possible impact of those pictures she sent of my ugly colleague? Hmm?"

"Really sweetheart, what makes you think that my knowledge is more accurate than what the tabloids are writing?" Amanda was quick to notice that Serge's Italian drawl was more pronounced today than usual and that his deep brown eyes were twinkling. It was clear that he was sitting on a juicy tidbit and that all that she had to do was find the right button to push in order to get the news. It shouldn't be too difficult; Serge looked like he was bursting at the seams with the urge to tell all. Not that it was evident to anyone but a very few regular customers; however, Amanda had known him for years and could detect his mood in about fifteen seconds.

She let her finger languidly glide along the edge of a very good reproduction of a Chanel skirt without looking at her old friend. She so enjoyed their little sparing. "Oh, I don't know. It might be because you always know the latest gossip before everybody else, or because you have very good informants in the police fraud department, or because your boyfriend works for "_The informal_" which is the best rumors monger magazine in town, but most of all I think it's simply because I know you so well." She finally grinned and sent him a look from underneath her lashes, "You wouldn't want me to return home empty handed and depressed now, would you?"

Barely hiding his amused smile behind a serious scowl, Serge crossed his arms, "Even if all this is true, what makes you think I would be inclined to tell you anything?"

Amanda made a show of looking thoughtful while tapping her index on her chin, "Gee, let me think…what about an order of about twenty different suits with all the accessories? My Aunt Muriel's best friend's cousin has lost almost sixteen pounds and is cleaning out her closet. She asked me to see where she could replenish it fashionably without emptying her closed fisted husband's account. Of course I thought of you, among others illegal's, but if you rather I go elsewhere… after all, Mario's have less quality materials but he's willing to give me twenty percent commission for such a big order."

Serge could not help himself and burst out laughing. "Young bitch!" He extended his arm to her in a flourish, still chuckling, "Let's talk about our little arrangement over a cup of tea then. I'm sure we can find a way to satisfy everyone."

Amanda dropped the act, and smiling at the older man, took his arm happily before being swept off to the little kitchen behind the dim store.

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Betty had never felt so terrified in all her life, everywhere she turned there was the sounds of wild beasts and the, too close for her peace of mind, chants of strange warriors. Running on the uneven terrain on a small trail, she kept pushing damp leaves away from her face. How could this be? She was in a nightmare, a minute ago she was a prisoner in a strange club and now she was running in the middle of a wild jungle! Talk about falling from the skillet into the fire! If she ever get herself out of this one alive, she swore, she would kill Bely with her bare hands. She would bet her last cent that this was one of the designer strange set up for who knows what strange purpose.

Suddenly, a loud crack exploded near her making her jump, and the undergrowth shivered with the passage of something, something large. Betty stilled, barely daring to breathe. The huge and magnificent head of a tiger slowly made its way through the bushes just a couple of feet beside her. Terrified, Betty couldn't have moved if her life depended on it, which was probably the case anyway. Squinting its eyes at her almost lazily, the tiger took a few tentative sniff in her direction…then roared for all it was worth, an immense sound that drown everything in it and scattered every thoughts in Betty's mind. As the tiger took a breath for a new roar and moved its body as if it was getting ready to pounce on her, like a big cat on its favorite toy, fear finally unlocked Betty's legs, and screaming took off as fast as she could on the trail. Not daring to look behind her, she just followed the faint path, not caring where it was bringing her.

Eventually, out of breath, she leaned heavily on a tree trunk, trying to find her breath and lose the stitch on her side.

Surprised at the tree texture, she looked at it more closely, brushing some dirt out of the way. There it was…using her nail, she scratched a bit….paint. It was paint that slowly scraped off the false trunk. Thinning her lips in anger and concentration, she moved ahead until a wall of vegetation barred her passage. Shifting the foliage away she soon discovered a sign on a very normal concrete wall that said "Sound Stage 3".

So, nothing was real. She knew it. It was all staged. Now knowing what to look for, she cautiously advanced forward, squinting her eyes to try and see farther than the darkness. There, up in the trees…a small video cameras. And if she listened carefully she could barely hear the whirring and the endless clicking of a number of cameras shooting. So, Bely wanted a real live and true photo shoot. She knew that her mad dash around the 'jungle' and the damp air was probably ruining the hard work the girls have done on her previously. That gave her a little satisfaction. Let's see how she could make things even worst for her captor. With some feelings of vindication and a childish abandon, Betty happily took a handful of her skirt and…pulled with all her strength. The sound of the tearing material was music to her ear. This was payback, and it was very satisfying. She probably wouldn't be allowed to eat anything but bread and water for a week, but it was well worth it in Betty's mind. Smiling at her ripped costume, she made her decision and plopped down carelessly on the ground, making sure to trudge in the damp inches deep earth enough to soil the satin with big brown stain. Then, taking and handful of earth, she rubbed it on her corsage, on her arms and even some on her face. "_What the heck, in for a penny, in for a pound!_" she though gleefully. This was a lot of fun. Now, let's see how Mrs. Designer was going to like her new look!

With more confidence than she really felt, Betty went back to the dim path and looked defiantly up at the camera. She was done running around like a headless chicken; she was staying right here until that mad woman decides to stop this craziness.

She had forgotten about those weird natives like warrior. Without a sound, they suddenly surrounded and grabbed her. Miffed, but not beaten down, Betty followed them down the trail toward the clamoring chanting and the huge bonfires. "_The show must go on, I guess._"

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Amanda was leaning on the table, eagerly waiting for Serge to stop dawdling and start telling. She knew better than to push him, he would talk when he was ready. He was a firm believer that a good story was like a good wine; it was best served on its own time. So Amanda kept a tight rein on her impatience and sipped her coffee while her old friend was making himself a strong cup of tea.

At long last, he was ensconced in his chair with his tea and seemed ready to launch into gossip. She licked her lips with anticipation, if there was one thing she liked almost as much as fashion, it was a juicy gossip. She especially loved to know things before anyone else. It was one of the reason she came to Serge, even though he paid her less than others in his business for her commissions, she knew he could 'pay' her in fresh an accurate gossip. Fashion and gossip together was just too much for her to resist. And he knew it. The arrangement worked well, for both of them.

Taking pity on her, Serge smacked his lips on his last sip and leaning over the table breathed in an intriguing whisper, "There have been some strange rumors and stories doing the round in the last few days."

"What kind of stories?" she whispered back, eyes alighted with excitement.

"Stories of a new kid on the block. Rumors say that someone is doing reproductions of a new kind. The black market is abuzz with the news of a whole new layer of products and retailers who are putting a quiet word around for possible customers. They stay on the edge of things and are really, really cautious. No one seems to be able to give names, or locations. The only thing that seems to be the common thread of the rumors is the kind of products these new guys are out to sell."

"And….? What kind of products is that?"

"It all seems to link back to this new designer, the one who kidnap your co-worker. Rumors has it, there will be reproductions of her designs to be bought soon on the street."

"Who would be daft enough to buy fake bad fashion? To buy the real thing would already be bad, but to buy reproductions?"

Serge shook his head, "You've allowed your prejudices to blind you again, sweetie. I gathered that you don't like that girl that was taken, but just think a moment; this story had not stopped doing headlines in the tabloids for the last two weeks. The major newspapers and TV stations are still doing follow up on it. This is gold, girl, and every player in the field is going to try and be a part of it. This is not about fashion, or even about the girl. This is about business."

Amanda snorted with disbelief, "What kind of good business can be done with a flawed product and an ugly advertisement? I mean, come on! This is Betty we're talking about, the queen of bad fashion, the quintessence of bad taste, the most boring and horribly good person around. Nothing with her on the cover can sell well. It's against nature itself!"

Amused, Serge let her rave her disgust, "Are you sure, you're not just jealous of her, darling?" At her strangled response, he laughed and continued, "Besides, business is not about beauty or style, it's about publicity. That designer is certainly a good business woman; she is slowly building up a campaign. As we speak, there is already a little market of pictures that didn't make the papers, most of them simply because she never sent those to the media. She obviously knows how the man on the street thinks, and that is, if you can't have it in the official and lawful way, then you can get it on the street market. Just yesterday, I saw two never seen before pictures on e-bay and each of them were bought in a matter of hours." He shook his head, "That designer is going to make money out of this. If not her, at least, someone close to her is doing this."

Serge took the last sip of his tea before looking at Amanda with carefully hooded eyes, "I'm a business man too, Amanda. I want my own piece of the money pot. You are a direct line to Mode and in this story, everything connects with Mode. I have a plan. You, my darling, are going to be my passport to money and freedom."

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Daniel looked into the eyes of the beautiful brunette that was seating opposite him in the elegant restaurant. She was everything he loved in a woman; graceful, sensuous, confident and of course lovely in a fashionable dark blue gown. In spite of the perfection of the moment, Daniel could not stop his mind going back to the call he had done earlier in the evening. Who would have thought that Alexis of all people would be the one person to give him back some hope that Betty could be found in a timely fashion. He had tried to hide the dept to which this new possibility has shaken him. A private investigator! How come he has not thought of that himself? Alexis have told him the PI was one of the best in New York, but just to be sure, after all he was far from sure he could trust his new sister, he have called his own contact. Becks. His best friend knew where to look to check on anyone's reputation in town. Besides, the guy have been the target of some PI himself back in the years when he found it funny to cuckold old man with beautiful, bored and rich young wives. Becks have told him from the get go that he knew the name of the agency, which was a big one, but he have never heard of that particular investigator. So far, so good. He could not wait to hear from his friend again so that this bizarre situation could be resolved and things could get back to normal. He absolutely hated to feel like this. He have never in his life being so acutely uncomfortable to be sitting here, having fun while a friend was in trouble. He never minded other people trouble before, but then, he never had a friend who got kidnapped before either.

The brunette (what was her name again? Cheryl? No. Darn, Vicky? No. Wait…Alice! That's was it.) smiled voluptuously at him, "So Daniel dear, do tell me everything. How does a hot, handsome young man like you handle the pressure of editing such a big time magazine like Mode? I'm sure the burden must be hard to bear sometimes. Tell me, how do you prefer to…let off some steam?"

Her sexual innuendos were so blatant that Daniel barely resisted rolling his eyes. This was a game and even with such a crude approach, Daniel was always one to play it to the hilt, he considered himself a professional after all.

"Believe me Alice, the mere fact of having you, looking so beautiful in front of me, is enough to make me forget everything that has happened down to the last century at the very least." He took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist with all the art and skill that years of womanizing have given him. He was pleased to feel her shiver. He had not lost his touch.

She almost purred with pleasure, "Oh Daniel! You're such a charmer." She sighed and gracefully retook her hand in order to take a sip of her red wine. "But I'm sure the present situation at Mode must make thing much more complicated. I mean, it is your assistant that is missing after all. My poor baby, how are you copping? I can't imagine the stress you must be under with all the publicity and the police everywhere."

Daniel frowns slightly at the turn of the conversation. This was definitively not part of the courtship script. What was she trying to do? Gather information for a tabloid? Could she be a spy for that crazy designer? He chose his next words carefully, trying to sound just like a rake with nothing else in his head but how to get into the girl pants. Maybe it was time to get a little more direct.

He let his voice go low with supposed suppressed lust, "Nothing a good night with a superb creature like you cannot arrange. Stress can have a good effect on the libido, you know, it makes one appreciate the simple, most beautiful things in life."

At Daniel's amazement, she pressed the point further. Gee, some people don't easily get the hint do they? "I'm sure it is, darling, and I can't wait to see you prove it in a very agreeable way. Still, you can stay in bed forever, you have to get up in the morning and go to work and then, pouf! All your problems are waiting for you again. It must be terrible to walk up to your office and see her desk, there, so horribly empty, knowing how much she must suffer in that madwoman's hands. I want to help you, sweetheart, tell me how you feel. Talking with someone always helps, or that's what everyone says anyway. Talk to me, honey."

Daniel was definitively getting uncomfortable; she was getting a little to close to the mark. It was indeed kinda hard to see Betty's desk, empty, sitting there like a proof of his unmanly incapacity to help her. And it was even worst to see those pictures in the news, looking both just like Betty and so unlike her at the same time. He felt like it showed parts of her he had no idea existed, and that as her friend, he should have been aware of them. He knew he was not at fault, that there was nothing he could have done to prevent the kidnapping, that was what is mind kept telling him. It didn't helped him any. Guilt made him relive the event in his head over and over; there were things he should have tried, things he could have said. He knew that Henry felt the same. They could barely look into one another eyes when they did cross paths in a corridor.

Getting angry, he very carefully took his napkin from his lap and put it on the table. "Why are you here, Alice? Are we on a date or is this some sort of therapy? Do you want a nice dinner and a hot night of sex or are you just after gossip from the lips of Daniel Meade so that you can boast to your friends that you have the very latest? You want me to talk? Alright. This is what you need to know about me; I'm a very private person. I have special friends I talk with when there's a need. You are not on that very short list. When on a date, I do not mix business and pleasure by talking shop with my date. I do not gossip and I do not like to be thought a fool. Keep by those rules and everything will go just fine."

Fortunately for everyone concerned, Daniel's phone took that exact moment to ring. "_Saved by the bell._" he thought while opening his cell. "Daniel Meade."

"_Daniel, its Becks. I looked into it. The PI is genuine and he has a good rep. There shouldn't be a problem there._"

"Thanks man. I owe you one." He closed the cell and smiled a smile that never reached his eyes. "I'm sorry. I need to take care of something. You can stay and finish diner if you want. I'll take care of the bill." And without a backward glance he went out. Never has he been happier to walk out on a girl.

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Betty didn't care being dragged to where she supposed Bely wanted a harsh word or two with her but she balked when she saw that talk was not anywhere in her near future. The 'warriors' were bringing her in a large 'clearing' in the front of the stage where she could easily see the cameras and the technicians working their magic. Bely was there, at the edge, directing calmly her crew in front of the two big fires.

She saw Betty arrive and after a quick survey of the damage nodded to the leader of her special guards. Without a word, they led her toward a large structure that looked like a mix between a bridge and a big door. There was high crude wood stockade like walls then a whole in the wall where was situated the 'bridge/door' with two long pole on each side decorated with more human skulls and a number of other similarly happy stuff. On the path leading on the structure between the walls, a number of torch and sculptures were deposited. On her way, she saw on one of those the primitive drawing of a huge ape. She frowned, the setting was familiar somehow. Where in the world had she seen something resembling this?

Once they were on the 'bridge', Betty saw that it was not one for there was nothing on the other side, just forest. This looked more like a platform than anything else. Her guards turned her around so she was facing the fires and the cameras and waited holding her firmly.

Soon, a crew of women came to, Betty assumed, arrange the damage she have inflicted on her appearance. To her surprise, she was quite wrong. Under Bely supervision, they moved some of the dirt away and placed some more on other places. They ripped a little bit of her right sleeve and some of her bodice so that it showed more skin than Betty was comfortable with. They smudged her face artistically and arranged her hair in gorgeous disarray. It took a while. Every time Betty tried to squirm or talk, one of the two black giant holding her would simply hold her more firmly. She was afraid she was going to get two great bruises.

Finally, Bely indicated that she was satisfied and the women disappeared. The light dimmed, the crew stopped milling around and a man started counting backward…"Show time, brace yourself little girl" murmured one of her goaled before the tam-tam and chanting started again and a wave of 'natives' waving torches ran in her direction, stopping right underneath her and her two guards. Then, as one, they took her wrists and raised them to attach them to a rope dangling high on each pole. They retreated to leave her alone, attached on the platform and joined their 'brethren' chanting and moaning.

That is when the feeling of familiarity coalesced into instant horrified knowledge. "Oh my God! It's King Kong! She's shooting that scene in King Kong!" Thoughts of the very real tiger she had seen previously plagued her imagination, she didn't want to know what someone as crazy as Bely would bring on the set to play King Kong. She wanted out. Now.

"You are crazy! Let me go! Please! You can't do this to me! This is insane!!!" She screamed squirming madly to try and get her hands free. The ropes were quite taut and she was tied securely. She couldn't reach the poles with her feet.

Suddenly, the chanting stopped and a scared hush seemed to settle on the crowd. Feeling the change in the atmosphere, Betty stopped thrashing and yelling. It was there, she could feel it. She heard the rustling in the forest behind her and the rhythmic trembling of the ground under her feet as if an enormous animal was coming closer. She tried to look behind her but the rope didn't give her much space to do so. She could not see anything in the darkness behind her. The fact that she could not see was worse than actually seeing anything. Betty had a pretty good imagination and right now she really wished she didn't. She closed her eyes. "_This isn't real, Betty, it's all a setup. King Kong does not exist, you are not on a far away island, you're in New York. There is nothing to be scared about._"

The ground stopped shaking. Rigid with fear, she tensed even further, "_This is not real, this is not real, this is not real…_" was the mantra that was the only thing keeping herself together right now. Then, just in her back, a deep rumbled sound, a humphing and a breath of putrid air caressed her neck…she could not hold it anymore. She screamed like she never had before with pure, unadulterated terror.

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TBC…

Note: Oh, this was a lot of fun to write! Let me know what you think, don't forget to click on that little button here for a review! (I can be sooo subtle sometimes...lol).


	5. The question and the answer

**The Great Makeover Adventure**** (aka: Talk about one Crazy Fairy Godmother)**

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**Disclaimer:** I don't own it. Story of my life. (Sigh)

A/N: As usual, a huge thanks for my Beta Jen who,even though her life is a whirlwind, takes the time to look over my many mistakes and make it readable for you folks.

_"It is better to know some of the questions than all of the answers." _James Thurber (1894 - 1961)

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_**Chapter 5**_ : The question and the answer

Daniel walked into the private investigator's office with some trepidation. Alex had insisted that she had to stay in the background for fear that her involvement would tip their father onto their meddling. She said their father kept an eye on her, he knew she would not stop scheming for his demise anytime soon. So Daniel was here, alone in his fancy suit, feeling like he belonged anywhere but in this dingy place surrounded as he was with hard-eyed, scowling individuals. It was a good thing that Becks had told him this was a renowned firm or he would have turned around as soon as he stole a look into the place; it looked more like a criminal-infested den than it did a lawful firm.

He cautiously approached a desk in a corner. "Hum. Excuse me. I'm Daniel Meade. I have an appointment at seven with Detective O'Shannon."

The man at the desk did not look from the file on the desk and only grunted, "Sit down and wait for seven o'clock then and stop badgering."

Well, that went well. With a sigh, Daniel took one of the rickety chairs lining one of the walls and looked around for something to read while waiting. There wasn't anything. Not even a Sports Illustrated or a Reader's Digest. Who ever heard of a waiting room without those? He settled himself as best he could on the hard plastic for an uncomfortable wait. The next five minutes were some of the longest in Daniel's life. The four men around the room were sipping cold coffee and eating stale donuts without a qualm, talking quietly amongst themselves, studying files or clicking away on their computers. Three doors were closed, apart from the one leading out in the hall. Daniel really hoped at least one of those doors led to an office. He was not keen in having to explain his presence here in front of an audience.

Finally, a man in a tired old blue suit exited one of the closed rooms and walked to the detective that Daniel spoke to earlier. The man in blue gave the grumpy one sitting behind the desk a file while explaining something quietly. The guy behind the desk nodded once, gulped down the rest of his coffee and in the same movement, sent the cup in the trash and grabbed a light coat. He stopped a second to take a paper in the file and said a few words to his colleague while shrugging into the coat. He nodded again at his boss answer and was gone through the door almost at a run.

The man in blue turned toward Daniel and took a moment to study him. Daniel had the distinct impression that this man did nothing before carefully inspecting every aspects and possibilities. This man seemed younger than Daniel first anticipated which led him to believe, that he was probably a little under forty. He was also the personification of nondescript; medium height, brown hair, not skinny nor beefy, average looks…the perfect man on the street that nobody looks at twice. _Must be an asset in the profession_, Daniel mused.

This was the man that Daniel supposed was Richard O'Shannon who approached him with a bland smile on his face, "Mr. Meade, I presume?"

Daniel got to his feet with his own special smile firmly on his own features and shook the man's extended hand, "Thank you for seeing me, Detective O'Shannon."

"My pleasure, I assure you, Mr. Meade." He made a large gesture toward the door where he had first emerged. "Let's take this into the office, shall we? More privacy that way."

Without waiting for Daniel to approve or precede him, O'Shannon simply strode toward the door and over the threshold in a matter of seconds, leaving Daniel standing there, slightly shocked by the man's manners. It didn't help that a rasp chuckle escaped one of the man listening in from the water fountain a few feet from him. It was at time like this that Daniel was most aware of how much his social circle was sheltered and isolated from the real world. That's how going to Betty's house used to make him feel and why he was happy that Alex was not with him now. She would have stood out like a sore thumb even worse than himself.

Grating his teeth and squaring his shoulders, Daniel took his attaché-case and moved to the opened door quickly, closing it behind him.

O'Shannon was already seated behind an old looking and scared desk with the usual files holders on a wall, blinds over the small window and a battered mismatched pair of armchair waiting in front of the desk.

"Please, have a seat, Mr. Meade."

As soon as Daniel was seated in the chair that seemed the less likely to collapse at a moment's notice, the detective took the offensive. "I hope you don't mind my saying, Mr. Meade, but I find curious to see you here. As far as I know, there are at least two agencies that supplies services to the rich and famous in the city. They offer not only the service of a detective but also of complete anonymity and discretion. I can give you the number of one if you want."

"That won't be necessary, detective. I know of those agencies and they are both in my father's sphere of influence. I'd rather he did not know of my sudden interest in detective work."

The detective's eyes took on a spark of interest, "I see. I was not aware of any estrangement between you and your father, Mr. Meade. The gulf between him and your sister is well-documented, but I have not heard of anything between the two of you since you took the editor-in-chief job at his flagship magazine."

Daniel cleared his throat self-consciously before getting a grip on himself, that man had a dangerous way of bringing the most uncomfortable subjects to the forefront. It looked like putting people at ease was not a necessity in detective work.

"That's probably because we're not 'estranged' as you put it, detective. I simply don't want him to worry that's all. He has enough on his plate at it is." Hopefully, the last would turn the conversation where it belonged, that is, on the subject of Betty.

"You refer to the kidnapping of your secretary? I would thought that it would affect you rather more than it would your father. Or am I mistaken in my assumption?"

Daniel started to feel angry. This man had no rights to put him through the wringer like this. He made him feel guilty, as if he was a suspect being interrogated instead of a prospective rich client to be pampered and win over. By the look of this place, they really could use the money Daniel could give them. "I don't care much for your tone OR you assumptions, detective. You have no rights to imply that losing Betty is of no consequence to me. She is not only the best assistant there is, but she is also my friend. My very presence here is a direct proof of my willingness to find her fast. If this is a sample of your deducing capacities, I really think I should look for help somewhere else." Daniel got on his feet and was already halfway to the door before the detective's voice stopped him.

"Why come to me instead of the police? If you really care for the wellbeing of the chit, they are the logical choice, aren't they? They have already almost two full weeks of clues to rely upon whereas I would have to start from the very beginning. Not the most effective way to find her quickly."

Daniel turned around slowly to study the man with curiosity almost overriding his anger. O'Shannon was not trying to stop him from going away, he was not babbling or begging him to reconsider, he was not even apologizing…instead Detective O'Shannon was asking more questions. Something from the detective's eyes gave Daniel the clue into understanding the basic motivation of the man; curiosity. The man cared and wanted to understand. To O'Shannon, Daniel was as much a mystery than the detective was to him.

Slowly, Daniel took two steps toward the desk and leaned with his hands on the back of one the mismatched chairs. "The police is going nowhere with this investigation. Someone came to me yesterday with the information that my father had paid them off to slowed it to a crawl. My father's a business man, you see, and he does not know Betty very well. He's making money with this and is using the situation to smart up his image. I don't blame him, I understand his point. But I do know Betty, and I know her family and I want her back into our lives. Everyday that passes is one more day she suffers who knows what kind of horror in that madwoman's hands. Betty is a very special person; she's like no one else I've ever met. I can't bear to think of the damage that is been done to her even now. The more we wait, the worse it'll be. I just don't want to find her alive, detective, I want to find her still being more or less herself. I was told you were one of the best and I want to see result now, I have enough of waiting." Daniel took a steady breath to keep his emotions in check. He was almost as surprised by his speech as the detective. He had no idea before now how strongly he felt about this. Oh, he knew it affected him, but he was just now discovering exactly how much.

O'Shannon looked at at him with speculation while munching on the end of a pen. "Well, well, you have been well informed, Mr. Meade. You visibly know that I don't take just any kind of cases, I take only those where justice can be served, to help people. You see, I used to be in the police, but I was disgusted by the politics, the bureaucracy, and the corruption that made it so difficult to see real criminal being apprehended. And don't get me started on the so called justice system." He sighed. "Your story is very stirring, and I'll admit the case is intriguing. So the question is: What would you gain by coming to me, asking that I take the case? No one comes to a private investigator without an agenda of their own. I've yet to see someone coming through my door with a real simple black and white story. Those are the ones the cops solve. The one I tackle are always about trying to solve things without attracting to much attention by avoiding the system. Not that I don't believe you care for the girl, I think you do, in your own way, but there is something missing in your story. I don't take cases without knowing all the facts, Mr. Meade. Never. You wouldn't believe how many criminals try to use private investigators for their own purposes and the story they tell are usually good enough to make the most hard hearted man cry his eyes out. One of the reasons I survive in this business is because I choose my cases real carefully and because I have this ability to smell bullshit from a mile away." O'Shannon suddenly leaned intently over the desk, "So, I'll ask you, for the last time Mr. Meade; why are you here and what are you not telling me?"

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Betty was trying to sleep without much success. Yesterday's events kept intruding as she attempted to clear her mind and get some rest. Why had Bely seemed so glad of her willful attack on her dress and why had she completed the said destruction afterward? It made no sense; if she was trying to prove her prowess as a designer, why destroy the very thing that was the key to success? Betty shook her head in the dark, the only explanation she had was that Bely really was crazy. But somehow, it felt like an explanation that wasn't really one at all. It was maddening, really. She had been so proud of her little act of insubordination, and was more than ready to take the punishment like a pro. But, nothing was coming out of it at all!

Betty was even awarded the right to a little piece of chocolate cake at dinner last night and a small glass of wine. Damned if she knew why! Visibly, Bely was happy with the way things went in that stupid King Kong scenario. Betty shivered with the memory of that awful moment when she had felt 'something' touch her in her back while she was tied to those poles. It had not been funny, it had felt so real. Even now, completely knowing the whole thing was a set up, having seen with her own eyes the prop used to make that disgusting wisp of bad breath caress her neck and the mechanical enormous King Kong 'hand' that touched her, she was still scared. Of course Bely had wanted 'authenticity'.

That was how she had explained it all, Betty remembered, "_Girl, please, get a grip on yourself! There was no way I was going to get you into knowing what was going to happen! You're not an actress, you're not even the beginning of a model, you just can't pretend well enough to pull it off. I wanted a real air of terror for the shoot, so, I just didn't tell you anything and trusted that movie magic and your own imagination would do the rest. It's very simple, really. I was right, as usual, of course. You did extremely well, perfect in fact._" Betty was still fuming about that. The nerve of that woman! She didn't care Betty was half dead with terror, sure her heart was about to bust open in a fear induced heart attack, Bely thought it all completely normal!

What was the worst out of it all were the designer's hints of more of these kinds of photo shootd. She said that Betty's reaction was so convincing that she couldn't wait to see how she would handle the 'rest of the surprises'. If that King Kong stunt was just one of many, Betty was sure she would be dead by the end of the summer. She was a good, normal girl out of Queens, for heaven's sake!

What did she knew of crazy fashion designers, bondage clubs and movie sets? Nothing, that's what! And what of her life? Was anyone locking for her? How was Hilda and Justin doing? How did Daniel managed without her? Did he missed her? Not knowing how things were with the people she cared about was almost as horrible as imagining what Bely had in store for her. She wanted so much to be able to talk to her father or just hear Justin sing a last time. She missed her home, her bed, her clothes, the good Spanish fare her father cook for them…but most of all, she missed the trust, the laugher and the love that had always been part of her life for as long as she could remember.

"Oh Daddy! Please, I want to go home!" she whispered in the darkness, letting for the first time since her kidnapping a few tears of self pity roll down on her cheeks.

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Daniel looked at the detective with a surprised expression plastered on his face, "I don't understand, O'Shannon, I am not hiding anything, I'm telling you that's how it is. Dad is paying off the police to slow the investigation while he does his PR stuff, and I want Betty found before it is too late! There is nothing else."

The detective kept shaking his head. "Something's not right with that scenario, Mr. Meade. Why are you so afraid your father will know about your implication? From what I know of the man, he might be ruthless but I don't think he would go to unconceivable ends to keep you from trying to find your friend."

"Maybe my father wouldn't, but my future mother-in-law might. She does not like Betty much. She's very ambitious, and she's working hard to make sure the image of the man she's marrying soon isn't blemished in any way, because it would like bad on her too. She's extremely self-centered."

O'Shannon shrugged, "Like all and any of the rich and famous." Still looking unconvinced, he asked, "Tell me, how did you learned of the pay off to the police? You talked about an informant?"

Daniel tensed, which the detective immediately noticed. "I see we're approaching the very subject you don't want to discuss, Mr. Meade. As I said, no one ever has a simple black and white story. If you want my help, you better tell me everything."

Even though Alex never told him in so many words that she would prefer her name was not mentioned, Daniel knew that it was a bad idea to bring her into this. The very fact of her well-known hatred for their father and the convoluted scheme she had hatched to arrange not only her own sex change but the imprisonment of Meade Senior, was like screaming to the detective that there was more to this case than met the eye. O'Shannon was already suspicious of everything, if he started thinking that Alex was using this to bring their father down, he would never take the case. For all Daniel knew, it might even be exactly what she was doing. It was a given that he could not trust her, she was just as good at manipulating people and events for her own benefit as their father ever was. He didn't care. Alex could devise her evil plans all she wanted and his dad could defend himself and maybe even getting some of his own medicine would do him good. That was between Alex and him. All that Daniel wanted was someone who knew what he was doing to try and find Betty. Soon. So, he tried to weasel out of it and gain some time while he thought of a good story to give the man.

"Really, detective, I'm sure that such a suspicious mind is a must in your job, but don't you think you're pushing it a little far?"

"Mr. Meade, I'm not in the mood for games. Either spill it out or find someone else to play with."

Knowing there was no way out of it, Daniel sighed in defeat and resumed his seat in the chair. "Alright. My sister Alexis is the one who told me about the police and also the one who gave me your number. "

"Your sister, huh? Now, that's an interesting tidbit. Why were you so reluctant to tell me this? I know your sister is on the warpath against your father, but how does finding the girl be of any interest to her? How can finding her be of any use against Bradford Meade?"

"You got it wrong, detective. It's not what finding Betty would do against Dad. It's how finding her quick would prevent him from becoming. If this continue too long, Alex is worried that Dad's good image will be so firmly inscribed in people's mind that no amount of truth would be able to shatter it. As you might know, Alex is obsessed with trying to bring Dad down at any cost and she feels that the present situation will prevent her from doing so. I personally don't really care one way or the other. Alex's hatred is warping her mind and it's been years since we could say we've been close. As for Dad, he have never cared for anyone but himself. I let them go at each other and try to stay out of their way, especially since Alex reappearance have helped to lessen the pressure Dad was putting on me. Plus, I'm pretty sure that Alex effort will come to nothing, Dad's survived worst than anything she can come up with." He shrugged, "All I really care for is for you to find Betty."

Daniel eyed O'Shannon dubiously, "That's all I can really tell you, detective. Do you have any other questions?" Daniel's tone was somewhat dry with weariness.

O'Shannon seemed to ponder this while continuing to munch on the end of his pencil. He finally mumbled, "What I think I would like to do, eventually, is meeting your sister." Answering Daniel, he continued more forcefully, "Don't underestimate the power of questions, Mr. Meade. It is my most powerful tool. Only with asking the right question can you get the right answer. For the question is always part of the answer, always." Then he made up his mind and raised from behind his desk and extended his hand to Daniel to shake, "All right, then Mr. Meade. I'll do my best to try and find your Betty. For a fee of course."

"Of course", Daniel answered with a huge sigh of relief.

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That night, a fraction of the video of Betty's encounter with ' King Kong' in her black satin dress found its way to the desk of numerous media outlets, creating a wave of excitement and consternation in its wake throughout the city. The police was stirred into trying to find a lead, the media was in a whirlwind of gleeful speculations, and the average citizen was fascinated by this new development. The next morning there was no other subject of conversation anywhere. All of a sudden, Betty was a hit in New York City.

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TBC…

A/N: _Not my best, I know, but bear with me, this needed to be done. I'll try to do better next time. Hate it, like it? Don't forget to review it! And please, keep in mind this is put under Adventure/humor…I know it's silly…it's supposed to be. I promise you I'm not trying turning Betty into a supermodel, I quite like her the way she is. What I'm trying to do is see if I can take a multiplot story and wrap it into a tidy whole at the end. Call it a test of my capacities while having fun at the same time. I know where I'm going with it and I know what I want it to be like at the end of it…so you're welcome to flame if it's done in an intelligent, well explained and constructive way. Otherwise don't bother... Thank you all for reading!_


	6. The Misplacement of Dreams

**The Great Makeover Adventure**** (aka: Talk about one Crazy Fairy Godmother)**

**Disclaimer:** Ugly Betty really is not mine, I swear!

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_"Pain is inevitable; suffering is optional."_ Author unknown

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_**Chapter 6**_ : The Misplacement of Dreams

Amanda was in the frustrating process of weighting down her options, pacing endlessly around the counter of the circular receptionist desk while either munching on her, now not so perfect nails, or a handful of little gummy bears.

"What's got you all twisted up like this, sweetie? Now, stop eating your nails, you know how dreadfully hard it'll be to bring them back into shape, and come on…tell your buddy Marc what's going on."

At the sound of her best friend's voice, Amanda turned around to face him and guiltily hid her hands behind her back.

"What makes you think I've got something on my mind?" She tried with her best practiced cute pout and angelic voice.

"Oh! Come, now! I know you, Mandy. You would never let yourself destroy your beautiful hands unless you are in the middle of a crisis of the highest level of importance. So, what is it? You gained a few pounds? No. Hum…You lost one of your shoes? That can be quite horrible. No! Worse than that? Dear, dear…you've had one bad karma. You…huh… slept with Daniel again?" The last was said with a small grimace, knowing it was a touchy subject.

"No, silly! Absolutely not!" Amanda almost squeaked, so not wanting to have that great, hot image in her head for the rest of the day on top of everything else.

Marc slightly raised one perfect eyebrow in surprise, "What is it then? You're out of chocolate? You're on a diet? Your favorite show was cancelled?"

"No, no and NO!" Trying for patience, Amanda closed her eyes and ate the last of her gummy bears in a gulp. Opening her eyes again, she looked at Marc with a look, "I…I can't tell you Marc. Really."

To escape his dumbfounded expression, she turned and went back to her chair, grabbing her earpiece and sitting down with a carefully created professional mask.

She soon found Marc hovering in front of the desk right before her with a furious look on his face. "I'm soooory? Do you remember who am I? This is the guy who swept up the pieces you shattered into after your affair with the boss! I'm the only person you said you could trust in this place! How can you tell me something so horrible to me…..bitch?!"

Turning in a great huff, Marc glided down the hall toward his office with his head held high with the dignity of a drama queen. Amanda sighed, no one could make a grand exit like Marc. He had it down to a great art. A little bit envious of his skills, she watched him go in his perfect color matching suit…when a sudden and brilliant idea hit her like a ton of bricks.

She got up so fast that her chair fell down in a great clatter behind her. She had no time to go around the despicable desk…so she tried to go over it instead, impeded by her tight short skirt.

"MARC…WAIT!" she screamed at his departing back. "I have an idea!"

Astride over the desk, trying to get her second leg up the counter without giving a free show to the whole floor, she screamed again. "MARC! Get your gay little ass down here to give me a hand!"

Finally stumbling down on her knees on the other side of her desk, she got up and without taking the time to dust off her clothing, just sprang after her friend, screaming all the way, "Marc! I'm sorry. It won't happen again. Just wait for me, I have an idea!"

She caught up with him just in time before he entered his office. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry….but listen, I know how you can help me. You are just perfect for it too! You'll even make some profit out of it!"

Seeing the light of greed and interest slowing perking up on his features, she took a firmer hold of his arm. "Let's go get a coffee, and I'll explain it all to you on the way."

Arms in arms, the two friends sauntered in the direction of the elevator without a backward glance.

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At the sound of her bell ring, Alexis Meade went to take a peak at who disturbed her in her sanctuary. She did not recognized the man but she doubted she would have recognize him minutes after seeing him, so completely drab and ordinary was he. She shrugged, it must be some vendor of something.

She called through the door. "I don't need anything, don't bother to try. Thanks anyway and good night!"

A scowl and a barked laugh was his first answer, "I wouldn't bother if I was really selling something Miss Meade, but I'm not here for that. Rather, I'm here for something you can do for me."

Affronted, Alexis just reacted with anger and opened the door wide, a look of utter disdain firmly set on her features. "I really, really doubt that there is anything I can do for you, Mister, even in your wildest dreams!!"

The darn man just smirked in her face and took the time to look her up and down, "That's a shame, really." He took his license out and looked in her eyes with some arrogance, "Inspector O'Shannon at your service, Ma'am. I met your brother yesterday. I need more info for my investigation; information I believe you can provide."

His detestable smirk just grew wider as she had been taken aback. He pressed his advantage, "May I come in? Or would you rather have this rather delicate conversion in the hall?"

Furious with herself for having shown surprise, a weakness she could not afford in the face of a strange man, she regained her mask of imperturbable hauteur and step to the side to let him enter.

She closed the door and looked at the detective as he made a visual sweep of her apartment, pretty sure that every particular details were noted, weighed, and labeled. He categorizing her for all time in a little box in his mind. She hated people who judged you like this before you had the time to say anything. Her appreciation of the man was not helped by his frumpy look and really bad tailored clothing.

He finally turned toward her, his inspection finished and the good manners he mother had rammed into her as a kid kicked in to save her from an awkward moment. "Please sit down, inspector." She offered him icily, "Would you like something to drink?"

He declined and she sat on the chair opposite him, straightening the short skirt showcasing her long legs. "What do you think I can do for you, Inspector?"

He cocked his head to the side with a serious look on his face. "For a first, I would like to know why you let your brother do your dirty job for you? You could've come yourself to hire me to go after your father if that was what you wanted. Why go through him at all with this fanciful story about wanting to find the Suarez girl?"

Alexis gritted her teeth and made a conscious effort to keep her temper in check. She was adamant that such a man as he, so beneath her notice, would not, could not provoke her into saying more than she wished to say. "I don't know what you mean, Inspector. Danny is overly fond of his secretary and was starting to get on my nerves with all his wailing. I only did what any good big sister would do; I gave him your number to calm him down. He needs to feel like he his doing something to help the situation, I suppose."

O'Shannon leaned back comfortably in the chair, like a man who though he was going to stay awhile. The smirk was back. "Really Miss Meade? I hope you don't mind if I tell you that's the biggest bit of bullshit I've heard in a while. And that's saying something, in my line of work I don't hear much of anything else. Congratulations."

Alexis had to bit the inside of her cheeks to keep her from telling the infuriating man what exactly she thought of him and his 'line of work'. She needed to waylay him into doing what she wanted, not the other way around. It shouldn't be so difficult. A man like him had probably never seen a woman like her this closely in his life.

She tasted blood on her tongue as she gave him a tight smile and crossed her legs, her short red skirt was pushed even higher on her thigh. "Really, Inspector. What a nasty thing to say. I assure you that only Danny's welfare is on my mind. Father is just so uncompromising on this issue. Who could blame him? He is a great business man, and Betty is just a secretary. In his mind, he his only doing what's best for the company."

"And you disagree with his opinion, Miss Meade?"

"Not completely. I understand why he thinks he have to do it like this, but I don't think that slowing down the investigation is the right thing to do when it comes to Danny."

"Why's that?"

She sighted with what seemed an obvious reluctance, "Well…you see, I'm afraid that Daniel's interest concerning Betty might come from more than just friendship, and the situation just makes his interest in her more pronounced. Having her in danger could be exactly the trigger for his emotions to suddenly take another path. Suddenly, he's missing her and he's wondering about things he should not, and would not, if this unfortunate kidnapping had not happened. I don't think it's anything too serious, but we cannot afford to have his name linked with a mere secretary, especially an ugly one. In my opinion, the sooner she is found and things get back to normal, the better for everyone. After suitable time has passed, we can find a way to offer Betty another job at another magazine in the company. Daniel would forget her in a flash. On the other hand, the longer the situation is prolonged, the more his obsession will be sustained and the more danger for it to turn to something else."

The inspector's face was just as inscrutable as her own now that she wondered if he believed her story. God knows that is was a rather big load of crap to swallow. The idea that Daniel could have ideas of a romantic, or worse, a sexual nature towards Betty Suarez was so ludicrous that it was bordering into insanity. Fortunately, the inspector did not know Daniel well and there was enough stories of her brother playboy activities that it was possible to assume that the boy could not resist anything in a skirt, even if the said skirt was around a fat ass.

"And of course, if during the course of my investigation, I happen to stumble upon proof of any of your father's wrongdoing, you won't find it hard suddenly to forget family duty and approve of justice in this instance?" She scowled at him a bit and started to retort but he cut her short. "Cut the crap, Miss Meade, will ya?…you're a little bit more transparent than you think you are. You're not talking to one of your naïve little rich boy that you can wrapped around your dainty fingers with a short skirt and a lot of cleavage. I can and do smell lies a mile away, it's part of my job after all, and even if you feel you've learned manipulation on your father's knees, I can tell you that I've seen greater masters of it on the street. I've heard of the hatred you feel toward your father even if I don't know the reason behind it, nor do I care, but what I really don't like is working in the dark. That's one of the good ways to get caught in the cross fire and wake up dead."

O'Shannon crossed his fingers together, "So, what I wanna know is who I'm working for and what's my job. I can work for your brother and try to find the secretary or…" he stressed, "I can work for you and try to caught your father's hand in the cookie jar." He shrugged, "Either way, I'll get paid what I think I'm due and no hard feelings."

This time, Alexis did not even tried to restrain herself as she let the flow of her anger wash over the detective with the vilest epithets she could find in her vocabulary. To make things worst, his smirk never left his face as he let her rage against him….

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Amanda looked at her friend Marc up and down to make sure his attire was sufficiently inconspicuous. Her whole plan hinged on the fact that Marc would not attract any attention whatsoever, to disappear into the background. She, herself, was much too known in the fashion counterfeiting community. Marc would have to be her eyes and ears.

The problem of course, was that her friend had no idea how to blend in. His natural instinct, on the contrary, was to be as flamboyant and as noticeable as possible. Unfortunately, she did not know anyone else she trusted enough to pull this off. Serge has hinted at a big payoff if she could help him pinpoint the source of the new black market items all bearing a connection to Betty's imprisonment; never before seen pictures, videos of the whole or parts of that King Kong like set, the clothes she had been wearing in the different pictures, accessories….they were hard to find on the street for the sellers were particularly timid and cautious, but once found, the items were sold at a small fortune.

Only those really intent on following this latest weird trend would eventually find what they were looking for…and only if they could show that they could afford it. Amanda had found two such customers, all because of her links to the big fashion world trough Mode. That was why she was an ace in Serge's hand over his rivals; she had connections both in the streets and in the high fashion business…and he was paying her very well for that too. The two models who had been able to snatch the prizes had told her with hushed whispers that they never directly talked with the vendors, everything happened through a middle man, who contacted them through an e-mail after they had let known in different parties that they would love to have something like what Betty was wearing in the two first pictures that came out on e-bay.

After answering the mail, they were asked to present themselves at a mall, of all places, where they gave the money to a clerk in one of the booth and received the item they were looking for in exchange. In both cases, the clerk was a different man and the little booth was two different companies in two malls in separate locations in town. Amada had checked them both. There was nothing strange about the places, the only thing was that the actual clerks the girls had talked to, were no longer working there.

She had been at her wit's end, even if she was to make known that she was interested in acquiring some stuff, the most idiotic of man would immediately find out quickly that she didn't have the dough to buy even a pin and would never approach her, more so if they found out she was working for Serge. These guys were extremely quiet and cautious, thus they were probably also quite dangerous. She needed to put herself out of the equation while keeping things under control. That was when the idea of using Marc came to her; she could not do it herself but Marc could at least scout out a bit for her.

She was somewhat torn, she knew that she was sending Marc into possible danger, the neighborhood he was going to was not the safest and some of the "gentlemen" that Marc was going to meet were of the cold-hearted sort who had made their living on the street, not exactly Marc's forte…

No, there was no other ways, Marc would have to do. Dressed in mute, non-descript jeans and an unadorned t-shirt, his usually curly hair flat on his head and a fake little mustache, he was as close to unremarkable as could possibly be achieve with such a darling. She tried to quell her nervousness, he was going to be alright. She was going to stay in contact at all time through a microphone hidden under in shirt. She was taking no chance either with his security or with the info she would get out of this. She had promised him a few hundreds bucks for tonight's work and she hoped that his usual long nose for money was not twitching too much, for if he started to understand exactly how big the stake was, he would never let it go before he had his share of HER share!

She had told him only what she thought safe to tell him…and that wasn't much. She had made it sound as if it was a ploy to get Betty into even more trouble, she knew that Marc would go with that. At work she was careful to mask as much of her street wisdom as she could, if they knew of her links and how she was using Mode influence to get the best deals, they would fire her on the spot. After all, counterfeiting was the mortal enemy of high fashion. She had no idea how they supposed she was paying for all the fashionable garments that she wore at work, God knew that a receptionist's pay was never enough for that! She never said a word about it, and no one never though to ask…fortunately! With Marc she had to be even more cautious, he was Wilhelmina right man, was pretty close and extremely loyal to the creative director…one wrong turn and the whole thing could go crashing around her ears. She was stepping unto pretty thin ice, but if it worked…the reward would be sooo worth it!

She took one last long breath while Marc was looking at his reflection in the mirror with very little enthusiasm, it was time to get this show on the road…

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Bradford Meade smiled with satisfaction as he looked at the article written about his last donation in the newspaper. Everything was going according to plan. His popularity and his growing credibility was getting him what he was looking for; contacts in high places. Suddenly, his high profile in the news was bringing forth men of power who whished to use his visibility by showing compassion and sympathy to the Suarez cause and snatch some of the benefice of been seen with the man of the hour. For them there was political gain to be make in such an association, showing good will toward a girl they didn't gave a real fart about, it was all a game one he was one of the best at playing at.

One of those men was the City Mayor, Bradford knew very well the City Mayor had a goal of moving a step up on the in poltics by hopefully becoming a Senator at the next state election. Bradford was agreeable to help the guy attain his objective…for something in return of course. Both men knew the rules of the game, and both knew that Meade's new popularity was through his involvement with the Suarez "situation" as the media was keen to call it. Both men had reasons to want the said situation to go on as indefinably as possible, and preferably with as many surprises and eventful crisis as possible to keep the public fascination unto it. As long as people wanted to know what was happening with the girl, the media would be only happy to keep the frenzy alive and as long as he kept being the spokesperson for the police and bereaved family, there was much to be gain from the situation.

He would do what was necessary, as usual, to stay in the mind of the people. His upcoming nuptials was doing the little that the kidnapping story was not covering with the big stars being invited and all the huge hoopla that Wilhelmina was tastefully organizing. The Mayor had been invited of course. Bradford's smile grew bigger; having a Senator in his pocket would be invaluable for his business, he was thinking of expanding, but taxes laws were so restrictive in this State. He was sure that something could be arranged, a loophole that the future Senator would be glad to engineer for him and a few other close friends….Yes, life was quite perfect this summer.

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TBC


End file.
